Glacial Fire
by owelpost
Summary: Shepard is icily unsympathetic. Liara has reached the point of combustion. An unassuming communications specialist finds herself caught in the cross-fire. As a result of a twisted dance, they reduce each other to fragments. This story is a darker examination of the characters taking place during the events of ME3.
1. Chapter 1

This story is dedicated to the_subverter, Huntington's Bride, Melaradark, LogicalPremise, PMC65 and Midnight Lion for being massive fonts of inspiration. Also to rabastan04 and Doccubus21 for following me across fandoms, I heart you guys! My thanks also go to RevolvingAbyss and AlyssC01 for their assistance with the early chapters.

Midnight Lion has written a superb 'fanfic of a fanfic' for Glacial Fire featuring Traynor and Liara. I managed to convince her to post it, so please go check it out. It's called "Backdraft".

Disclaimer: I borrowed the characters from Bioware and EA. I do not claim ownership of anything.

* * *

**Glacial Fire**

_by owelpost_

· x ·

The atmosphere was cloying.

Not a large space to begin with, the airlock felt even more confining as Doctor Liara T'Soni struggled with tenuous threads of composure. Her head throbbed dully, a side effect of overtaxing her biotic reserves without replenishing energy. She stretched her left arm across her chest over the opposite shoulder, testing the range of motion. She was certain that she had sprained something during a mad scramble for cover. She fought back an uncomfortable groan. Complaining about a slight discomfort seemed disrespectful in light of the fact that lives had been lost.

_Unnecessary lives_, Liara thought, feeling her face flush with frustration again.

To distract herself, Liara looked over at Ashley Williams who had removed her helmet and gloves and stood next to the door with her head tilted back and her eyes closed, a hank of dark hair partially hiding her face. Humanity's newest Spectre looked as battered as Liara felt. Her chest plate was dented and charred and Ashley appeared to be merely sipping on air, as though afraid to take a deep breath. The human presented no other physical evidence that they had very nearly been handed their asses during the mission, yet Liara could tell by her posture that Ashley was uncomfortable. She seemed to be trying to take up as little space in the airlock as possible.

The reason for their continued unease lingered a few feet away, arms folded across her chest as she glowered at the floor.

Shepard was pissed.

Williams beat feet out of the air lock as soon as the door hissed open, confirming Liara's suspicions: the Spectre felt the billowing essence of their commander's rage, too.

Lowering her head, helmet still firmly locked in place to hide the burning heat that splashed her cheeks, Liara made to quit the space as well. She was forced to draw up short to avoid being clothes-lined by a hard-suited bicep when the commander's fist slammed into the door frame mere inches from her face shield.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Shepard demanded in a voice barely above a harsh whisper.

Out of the three of them, Shepard had fared the worst. As a vanguard, the commander was always at the forefront of any battle. The combat style was a companion to Shepard's volatile personality, which meant that she usually came out of missions beaten to a bloody pulp. For reasons unfathomable to Liara, physical pain seemed to bring the human delight. Given the visible injuries Shepard presently sported—nose seeping blood, a shiny patch of red above her left eye, knuckles spread with contusions—the woman should be grinning from ear to bleeding ear. Instead she exuded intense fury, fixing Liara with an accusatory glare.

Liara sucked in a breath and backed up a pace, trying not to allow Shepard the satisfaction of any further reaction. The door slid shut, closing them off from the Normandy again.

The commander, only marginally less irritable on any given day, was prone to fits of temper punctuated by the verbal excrement humans were so fond of. Liara had learned the best way to deal with Shepard under these circumstances was to avoid the woman entirely.

She was not so lucky today. Incidentally that suited the asari's mood perfectly.

"I asked you a question, T'Soni. I expect an answer."

Liara clenched her teeth. If Shepard had barked at her like that back when they had first met she would have been reduced to an intimidated, quivery mess unable to utter a word. She was not the stuttering, shy maiden she had once been; although in the dark, solitary confines of her quarters, Liara occasionally mourned for the innocence she had lost since meeting the commander.

Now the receding flush in her cheeks was ignited once more by outrage that slowly crawled up her neck, fuelled further by apparitions from the past that forever bound her to the human.

"I need a shower, Commander. Would you please excuse me?" Liara muttered, trying to maintain a grip on civility at the very least. She took a step forward, but Shepard continued to block her exit.

"You are not dismissed," Shepard growled. "I want you to take off your helmet and look me in the eye while you explain to me _exactly _what happened out there."

In spite of herself, Liara felt her lips curve into an anticipatory grin. "You want to do this now?"

"You're damned right I do."

Liara felt a vein in her forehead pulse as what was left of her restraint snapped. By now the human was aware that the sweet little asari she had found on Therum was gone, but Liara doubted that Shepard knew the depths to which she had sunk before they had been reunited. As an information broker, Liara had learned the hard way how to take care of herself. She bluffed her way out of difficult situations as often as possible, but sometimes threats could not be idle. There were things she had been forced to do that would completely shatter the commander's perceptions of her. It shamed Liara and on her darkest days she couldn't help but lay some of the blame on Shepard's shoulders.

"Fine," Liara snapped, tugging her gloves off and tossing them to the floor. As she did so, she took several menacing steps toward the commander.

Shepard held her ground and watched the advancing asari with an almost amused expression. By the time Liara's fingers had reached the clasps holding her helmet in place, the commander's pupils had dilated and her chest heaved with the increased tempo of her breathing.

Liara wondered on more than one occasion if Shepard could function without some sort of conflict running interference through her life. It was as though the commander was optimal when her body remained in a constant state of stress.

Yanking her helmet off, Liara allowed it to dangle from her fingers for several seconds before chucking it aside with a harsh clatter. Nerve endings began to twitch as her biotics flared into existence, wreathing her in a crackling blue aura. Inclining her chin, she regarded the commander with singular focus.

Looking into the depths of Sherpard's eyes, Liara felt the tension shift. Years ago she had made an awkward attempt to romance the commander, sensing Shepard's attraction. As foolish as a juvenile, she had thought she could overcome the human's aggression to find gentleness at her core. Instead, by the time the commander had finished denying any sort of feelings for Liara whatsoever the asari had been left completely, nearly irrevocably diminished.

Liara knew now that the power balance between them had equalized, causing the old desire to resurface. And she saw Shepard's reflected back, exposed and raw.

"Not everyone is expendable, Commander," Liara admonished as she sent out thin tendrils of biotics—enough to envelop the commander and pin her to the wall, but not enough to harm her. She pushed a little harder, forcing Shepard's head to tilt back, lengthening her slender neck. Liara was briefly distracted by the commander's pulse point, which visibly throbbed.

"I had to make the call or we'd all be in for a massive anal raping by a bunch of husks."

Liara momentarily squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "You are so beautiful," she whispered, moving closer, "until you speak."

Shepard stared at her, eyes alight with fire now. The red glow and savage crisscrossing of shining scars had ceased to affect Liara. "I suppose you wanted me to let them bend you over?"

"I am no longer so easy to bend, Shepard."

Now Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Hmm, no you are not. What the hell happened to you?"

"You did."

Not many would have noticed the slight flicker of guilt that crossed Shepard's face, but Liara could see that the commander owned the responsibility—had owned it for some time. Then the mask swiftly claimed her features, the vulnerability gone as Shepard was once more sneering at her.

Liara desperately wanted to wipe that look off the commander's face. Continuing to hold the other woman with her biotics, Liara took one last step forward, penetrating what remained of Shepard's personal space. She reached up with her right hand, gripping the back of the commander's head by tangling her fingers in sweat dampened hair.

Shepard's eyes slammed shut even as her lips parted slightly. Liara felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss. One more step in the course she was on and there would be no semblance of the old Liara left. She would be nothing more than what she had become in pursuit of the Shadow Broker, stopping at nothing and letting no one stand in her way as she took what she wanted.

Liara paused, feeling the whisper of the human's hot breath on her lips. The temptation to kiss Shepard, to force her to act on her desire—to admit that she actually had feelings for Liara—was so strong that Liara was astonished to be trembling in an effort to fight it.

With a hiss of disgust, Liara let Shepard go, her biotics fizzling out. The commander stumbled as the pressure holding her in place was relieved.

Liara had already turned her back, missing the ghost of disappointment that haunted Shepard's face. The asari's shoulders rolled forward as she strode toward the airlock exit.

"Liara."

Fingers inches from the control panel, Liara stiffened. Shepard had not called her by her given name since Liara had first approached her about her feelings so long ago. She allowed her chin to drop to her chest, not entirely sure she wanted to hear what Shepard would say.

"I was trying to protect you," the commander murmured, a rare tenderness permeating her words.

Standing with her back to the commander, Liara couldn't keep the bitterness at bay. "You failed, Shepard."

In the resounding silence Liara lifted her head, squared her shoulders and stabbed at the door's control. As it hissed shut behind her, she heard a muffled clatter followed by an agonized shout.

In the event that she might falter, Liara didn't dare look back.

· x ·


	2. Chapter 2

· x ·

Hands bunched into fists tight enough to make the muscles of her forearms pop out, Shepard kicked Liara's helmet. The clatter it made did little to appease her frustration. The involuntary howl that tore out helped even less.

Liara had always managed to get beneath Shepard's skin. Something about her sweet innocence, combined with untapped potential power had drawn the commander like a moth to a flame. Shepard had known as soon as she met the asari that her world would begin to close in around her until Liara was all she could focus on. She had quashed that possibility quickly and brutally, figuring that sacrificing Liara's feelings while in infancy would prevent them from taking root and growing into something neither of them could control.

In truth, Shepard had known that her predilections would corrupt the young asari, if they didn't repel her first. She had told Liara the truth; she had been trying to protect her. Every virtuous, beautiful thing required defence from Shepard. All the commander knew how to do was loathe and destroy.

Teeth grit, she slapped at the control panel and strode out. As she stormed through the CIC, people snapped to attention. She ignored everyone until she reached the galaxy map and found Samantha Traynor standing at her station, poring over some God awful something or other.

_You failed, Shepard!_

Those words bounced around her brain. The sensation of Liara's fingers twisted angrily in her hair remained, too. Everything burned. She needed something to ease the emotional turmoil: something physical; something raw.

There was only one person who could fix Shepard and _she_ had just walked away—had been purposefully driven away.

"Traynor!" Shepard barked, snapping her fingers and pointing to the ground beside her as she strode by.

The woman's head jerked up, but she didn't blink at the offhand summons. Most of the crew were used to Shepard's brusque attitude. Some, like the specialist, even seemed attracted to it. Traynor fell into step next to Shepard, accompanying her into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Shepard stood staring at the floor while waves of frustration radiated from her. She made no move to actuate the controls, leaving Samantha to awkwardly observe her commander and wonder why she had been summoned.

Blood dripped unrestrained from the commander's nose, flowing over the top of her lip and down her chin where it swelled into beads large enough for gravity to seize. The droplets made the faintest patter as they collected on the carpet at Shepard's feet.

"You're… hurt," Traynor nervously ventured when it was clear that Shepard was not about to initiate conversation. "Do you need to see Dr. Chakwas?"

Almost absentmindedly, Traynor fished a tissue out of her pocket and began to dab at Shepard's bloody nose. When she realized what she was doing, she made a small noise of surprise and stepped away from the commander.

Shepard looked up and Samantha had to squash her hand against her mouth to suppress the gasp that threatened escape. The red of the commander's irises was nearly swallowed by the dilation of bottomless black pupils.

"Will she kiss them better?" Shepard asked, a predatory grin worming across her lips as she held up her bruised knuckles.

Samantha's breathing quickened momentarily before screaming to a halt as she realized why Shepard had summoned her. "Would—" Samantha's voice broke with shy uncertainty. "Uh, would you like _me_ to?"

Shepard knew she should stop this. Trading one demure crew member for another would do no one any good, except Liara had left her in such a state that Shepard couldn't stop herself if she wanted to. She could not shield everyone. She tried to convince herself she shouldn't have to. Traynor was a grown woman; surely she could handle the consequences.

So, the commander didn't answer. She merely stood watching as Traynor's face played out every emotion she experienced. Although when the decision was made, the specialist's mouth set into a determined line and her eyes windowed bold desire.

Traynor carefully lifted the commander's wrist and inspected the injuries before placing a soft, lingering kiss on the back of her hand. At the tender press of the specialist's lips against her skin, Shepard sucked in a breath. A violent shiver coursed from the base of her spine all the way between her shoulder blades.

"I have rules," Shepard breathed, forcing Samantha to blink at her for a few seconds while she processed. Then the specialist smiled, taking a step forward in an endearing display of unexpected bravado.

Her voice was husky as she said, "Tell me."

Shepard drew Samantha's hand up to her mouth, placing the specialist's index against her lips. "No kissing these," she murmured. Her tongue moved past slightly parted lips to touch the pad of Traynor's finger and Shepard nearly groaned as brown eyes widened.

She needed no further encouragement to continue. Using her hold on Samantha's hand, Shepard easily manoeuvered the woman until her back was against the wall of the elevator. Gathering both of Traynor's wrists in one hand, Shepard forced them above the specialist's head. The position effectively immobilized her while pressing their bodies dangerously close.

"I will use you," Shepard whispered in Samantha's ear, lips brushing the side of her neck. Hot breath searing flesh. "But you can never have me."

Shepard felt Traynor's throat work as she swallowed and the gentle rumble of the elevator went unnoticed, both occupants completely focused on the sensation of one another.

"Can you accept these terms, Specialist Traynor?" Shepard asked, leaning back slightly so she could gauge her reaction. Traynor's head had lolled back, her eyes were shut and she had pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Eventually, Traynor let go of her lip, eyes sliding open, but before she could answer the door to the elevator opened and Shepard was forced to take a step back. Annoyed at the interruption, the commander was prepared to glare at the intruder.

Until her gaze met glacial azure.


	3. Chapter 3

· x ·

The fire ignited low in Liara's belly. Frigid flames spread at a crawling pace, leaving her frozen despite an overwhelming desire to flee.

It had been a mistake to decide to retrieve her helmet and gloves from the airlock so soon after her stand-off with Shepard. She had no idea why her brain wanted to perseverate on the necessity of having them in her possession. Venturing out of her quarters in an emotionally compromised state had been a senseless idea, reminiscent of behaviours she had learned to recognize and terminate immediately. Those kind of mistakes belonged to the old Liara, a woman who had mostly vanished upon her transformation into the Shadow Broker.

Her lips thinned into an unimpressed line as she slid her gaze past a motionless Shepard to light on the confused expression of Communications Specialist Traynor, who looked as though she might be relieved—annoyed?—at being interrupted.

Samantha wavered slightly before making a surprisingly rapid recovery. Traynor cleared her throat and tugged at the hem of her tunic, managing to appear stolid as she shifted past them and vanished into the crew area.

The specialist's exit broke her trance and Liara let out an involuntary noise of disapproval that clearly scraped at Shepard, given the stony expression settling over her features. The commander mumbled something under her breath, sending an alarming feeling crawling up Liara's spine. Seeing the way Shepard's hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, Liara realized how coiled the woman had become and she forced herself to walk away a second time. It would be unwise to remain in the same space as Shepard while their most base emotions were inflamed.

As the doors to her quarters sealed behind her, Liara scrubbed her face with her hands. She hadn't noticed when she had begun to sweat—hadn't noticed when the sweat mingled with tears. While Liara wasn't entirely sure what she had witnessed in the elevator, she could identify the gradual deadening of her extremities that accompanied jealousy. She cursed the commander for still being able to elicit such an emotional response. After the airlock incident, she had tried to fool herself into thinking she could move past this. Now Liara realized she was a fool.

Powering through the dullness with sharp anger, Liara snarled and curled her fingers into a tight, biotically charged fist. She wrenched around, thumping the wall beside the doors with a biotic blast.

The discharge missed the commander by a mere foot.

Liara failed to note that the commander had slipped into the room behind her and the audacity of it made Liara even angrier.

Shepard didn't quail. She didn't move an inch, save to narrow her eyes at Liara. "Christ!"

Liara stomped forward. "Get out!" she shouted, lifting a finger to point directly in Shepard's face. "Goddess help you if you do not leave right now."

Shepard swatted the finger away. "This is my ship, T'Soni. I will go wherever the hell I please."

Liara barely knew what she was doing when she drew the Predator and shoved it beneath Shepard's chin, forcing the human to take a step back, eyes widening in shock. Liara shifted with her because the glacial fire that had settled over her had suddenly ignited. Everything became white hot and inescapable.

"This is what you want, is it not? Danger excites you," Liara grated, eyes wide and cheeks taut with tension.

"You don't have the quad," Shepard breathed.

"No, Commander, what I do not have is the desire to undermine all the sacrifices I have already made. I destroyed myself, lost every ounce of innocence I _ever_ possessed, for you." Liara tightened her grip on the pistol; acutely aware of the colossal danger she had put herself in as Shepard's rigidity melted and she became battle languid.

Liara was well beyond control, however. "What were you going to do to Traynor?" she demanded. "Were you going to peel away her innocence, too? Layer by layer?"

"Liara." Shepard's tone was low with warning.

"Please, I beg you, just leave her alone. I _know_ what it is you need. You can take it from me." Liara hated the scalding tears that coursed down her cheeks. The awareness of them, and the weakness they represented, stole her spirit. She lowered her head in defeat. "I—I am already broken, Shepard."

Shepard's movement barely registered. Liara's fingers became nerveless as the commander caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. Shepard relieved Liara of the Predator and propelled her away in one economical motion, ignoring the asari as she stumbled, unable to prevent herself from falling into a sit.

"I don't want that from you," Shepard said, voice flatly devoid of emotion. "I never did."

She lifted the gun, regarding it with cold consternation. She refused to look at Liara as she said, "If you _ever_ pull a weapon on me again, T'Soni, you had best be prepared to kill me."

Liara's heart thundered in her chest as sat on the floor, arms wound about her stomach. She watched the commander move mechanically, feeling the vestiges of anger dissipate only to be replaced by mounting dread.

Shepard tossed the gun aside as she left.

· x ·


	4. Chapter 4

· x ·

Samantha Traynor stood at the communications station nervously tapping her foot. She pressed the speaker of her headset tighter against her ear, more for something to do with her fingers than for any other reason. She was listening intently to the ground team's radio channel even though she knew full well that EDI monitored everything. Traynor just felt more useful when she paid attention. Just in case.

Static filled her ear as it always did just before someone spoke. "T'Soni," Shepard's voice sounded detached as she barked the asari's name, "right flank. Vega, you take left. I'm going right up the middle. Eyes open, people, and keep low."

While Liara chose not to respond, Vega's excitement was clear. "Oorah, Commander!" he cried, sounding like a kid who'd just been let loose in a candy store. Before his mic clicked off, Traynor imagined she could hear the enthusiastic stutter of his assault rifle. Her stomach turned molten at the sound.

She tried to picture the three of them as they might appear on the battlefield and found it difficult. Their personalities were so different that Samantha wondered how such a motley crew could be expected to work together seamlessly.

James Vega was young and vibrant, every ounce of muscle honed for battle, danger, glory. While he might seem blockheaded, Traynor had caught glimpses of the underlying intelligence he kept closely guarded. The Alliance didn't choose N7 candidates without some reason, after all. Not that Samantha would ever admit to knowing that hush-hush little detail.

She could imagine him powering his way through foes, much as Shepard was rumoured to do, with little fear and perhaps a smidgen of unhealthy zeal. Unlike Shepard, though, James was not likely to be his own worst enemy.

At the thought of the commander, Samantha's stomach performed an uncertain flip-flop. Her mind wandered to the incident in the elevator. It had been three days. Shepard had very clearly been avoiding the specialist, which was actually just fine with Samantha considering she didn't quite know what to make of the situation.

Shepard was perhaps one of the surliest people Samantha had ever met, yet she had felt an immediate draw. If asked, she would be hard pressed to put her finger on exactly what quality she thought might redeem the rigid woman. She suspected that many people who met the commander felt the same way. But Shepard had undeniable charisma, regardless of how unpleasantly she behaved. Sometimes Samantha wondered how much of it had to do with her stunning beauty. Even with the eerie red glow of her eyes and the garish scars that crossed her face like country roads on a vintage paper map, the commander would be considered striking. And Traynor was no more immune than anyone else.

She swallowed hard, thinking that the commander's red glowing eyes and scars weren't the scariest thing on the ship that she had been exposed to. Aside from the Reapers, nothing frightened Samantha quite like the soft blue gaze of Liara T'Soni. Granted, the asari had never been anything but cordial, but there was something just slightly off about her. It was as though a deep seated volatility were laboriously working its way to the surface similar to a dormant volcano, unpredictable in its stability.

At least with Shepard you knew exactly what she was thinking because she told you, albeit generally amongst much verbal diarrhea. Liara, on the other hand, seemed to perceive a person's very soul, filing away every single indiscretion while she smiled pleasantly.

"Commander!" Vega's voice, amidst a jumble of static, burst over the earpiece startling Traynor out of her thoughts. "You've got a deuce advancing on your six!"

"Shit, I'm already up to my eyeballs in husks. T'Soni, wake up! A little help, please? A stasis field would be nice, or a singularity—fuck, anything!" The clipped annoyance was evident in Shepard's voice.

"Lola, I don't see her—" James began, his voice dropping off abruptly before he cursed. "Oh, damn! Blue is about to be in for a world of hurt."

There was a moment of hissing silence before Liara finally weighed in. "Nothing I can't handle, Lieutenant Vega," she muttered, as though speaking around clenched teeth. The distinctive click of her mic followed a strained grunt of effort.

"Impressive," James whispered, barely activating the headset, presumably awestruck by something Liara had accomplished.

"Jesus, Vega, think you could stop staring at the shimmering asari and give me a hand?"

"Keep your panties on, Commander. I got this."

"You'd think you'd never seen biotics before, LT."

"_No one_ has seen biotics like that, Lola."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Samantha couldn't help but chuckle at their banter. It helped ease the tension that had been building within her as soon as she heard that the commander might be in danger. Knowing that Vega would do his best to keep Shepard safe made her feel—

Traynor went rigid. She dropped her hands to her sides and ceased the tapping motion of her foot.

"Specialist Traynor?"

Samantha blinked at the sound of her name and looked up to see EDI standing next to her, regarding her with an inquisitive expression. "Y-yes?"

"Are you all right? Your heart rate just spiked."

"I—uhm, yes, of course," she replied, unable to explain to EDI about the frightening realization that she had just come to: she was far more concerned about the commander's welfare than she had any right to be.

"Your pupils are dilated and you are sweating." EDI cocked her head, eyes travelling over Traynor with a clinical curiosity. "You are experiencing fear," she concluded.

"EDI, thank you for your concern, but—"

Shepard's voice in her ear saved Traynor from further scrutiny. "Everyone okay?" the commander asked, breathing hard.

"Five-by, Commander," Vega responded immediately.

"T'Soni?" There was an elongated silence. "Report!" Traynor's stomach dropped, dread flooding the vacancy. Her mouth went dry. She looked down at her hands, wringing them together as she listened with escalating apprehension. "Lieutenant, where is T'Soni?" Another lengthy pause followed in which Traynor imagined Shepard's steadfast composure slipping ever so slightly. "Liara? Goddamn it, report!"

Traynor looked up to see EDI's resolute expression as the AI turned away, already in the process of alerting Doctor Chakwas to possible casualties.

· x ·

_Author's note:_ Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment! I hope you continue to enjoy this story that has miraculously managed to run away on me.


	5. Chapter 5

· x ·

Shepard kept well away. She no more wanted to interfere with Doctor Chakwas' composed ministering than she wanted her presence immediately evident. She was there, however, leaning back against the furthest wall of the mess hall, arms crossed, trying to maintain a neutral, or at the very least dour, expression. She had no idea if she was managing to succeed given the torrent of unfamiliar emotions roiling through her mind.

It wasn't often that Shepard faced this kind of fear. It had even taken time for her to figure out what she was experiencing. The slow rot in her stomach that snuck out in radiating patterns to nearly incapacitate her was such a new sensation that Shepard had to grit her teeth in order to crush it.

She watched from a distance as Chakwas and her team attempted to stabilize Liara. Every now and then, when one of the nurses would move, she caught a glimpse of a pale blue hand hanging limply off the side of the hospital bed. Thick rivulets of blood slithered down slender fingers to drip unnoticed beneath their feet. Shepard imagined the sound of them hitting the floor to be like the detonation of grenades; each drop a deadly addition to the last.

The commander had seen wounded soldiers before, had watched their blood slowly drain from nearly lifeless bodies, but she had never been this affected. Death was her business. She brought it about easily and with wicked precision. But this was profoundly distinctive —Liara wasn't _really _a soldier—and she found that she didn't know how to handle the difference.

Her eyelids fell shut and she leaned her head back. Despite horrendous timing, her thoughts kept slipping to the last moment she and Liara had been alone in the same space. Shepard touched her jaw just beneath her cheek, imagining the cold of Liara's Predator and the rush of excitement that had raced through her body. She had threatened Liara then, refusing to let the asari know that she had absolute power over her, could in fact break Shepard into a million little pieces if she wanted to.

She thought maybe she had been kidding herself when she told Liara she had been sheltering her. Maybe Shepard had instead been practicing self-preservation.

Except none of that mattered now because Shepard had been unsuccessful in defending anyone. This time it was Liara who suffered the consequences of the commander's inability to control every minute detail of the universe. The asari was the latest casualty in Shepard's futile effort, but she found that Liara was the only one she actually wanted to accept the mantle of responsibility for.

The gentle, tentative touch of a hand sliding down her arm broke Shepard's concentration and she snapped into herself, not really surprised to find Samantha Traynor standing by her side, eyes shining with concern.

_I could break her, _she thought idly and immediately felt more comfortable within her own skin.

Lack of acknowledgement forced Traynor to remove her hand from Shepard's arm, although she moved a step closer and assumed a pose similar to the commander's. Their shoulders touched; the rise and fall of their chests matched. Traynor waited in an obvious struggle for companionable silence. Mostly her presence grated on Shepard, making her feel a ridiculous pressure to speak.

"She's seen me." Shepard scowled. She hadn't really intended on speaking. Traynor made a noise that illustrated her lack of understanding. "T'Soni. Melds. You know, asari bullshit." She waved a hand dismissively, wishing backpedaling were a viable option.

"Ah, yes, she helped you with the Prothean beacon visions. But it's more than that, isn't it?"

She caught the subtle shift in Traynor's tone that suggested disappointment. Shepard blinked, turning her head slightly to regard the specialist. The woman took an unsteady breath and then puffed out her cheeks when the ability to expound deserted her.

"Traynor." The raw mess of her emotions must have played havoc on Shepard's system because she felt uncharacteristic sympathy, and the desire to dress just one of the many wounds she had inflicted over her lifetime. "I'm sorry for… the elevator. That should never have happened."

The specialist inclined her chin toward the med bay attempting to deflect the conversation because it clearly caused her distress. "Will she be okay?"

Shepard, tenacity refusing to allow her to let the subject drop, ignored the question. "You don't deserve to be treated that way."

Traynor looked at her from beneath luxurious lashes. "I'm capable of determining that for myself," she said, startling the commander with the intensity behind her words. "Shepard, you obviously have different needs from other people. After everything you've been through… everything you've done… " Traynor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, allowing you to take something for yourself—"

Finishing the sentence seemed pointless. Traynor pushed off from the wall. She lifted her hand to tuck an errant lock of auburn hair behind Shepard's ear, and then trailed her fingers down the commander's cheek, skipping lightly over the scars there.

The specialist smiled sadly. "I can see that I am not the one to give you what you want. What you need."

"She's seen me," she repeated her earlier comment, wanting to help Traynor understand, as an apology. "Everything, every last dark horror that defines who I am." Shepard's chest expanded with the depth of a breath. "She used to be like you, Samantha. Sweet, innocent… she looked into that abyss and now she is well and truly destroyed."

"You accept too much responsibility," Samantha muttered.

Shepard snorted with derision. "No, I am just very aware of what I am."

Eyes glistening in sympathy, and possibly something more, Traynor squeezed Shepard's shoulder and turned stiffly away without another word. In her absence, the commander felt the weight of the universe crashing over her once more.

· x ·


	6. Chapter 6

· x ·

Heat.

Shepard was blinded by it, ravenous for it. It began deep in her core and blasted outward until she could no longer contain it.

Blue, like frost, sashayed ahead of her, fearlessly slithering deeper in the darkened alley. If she knew Shepard beyond the negotiated safe words and credit exchange, she would not have entered the passage.

No one should ever enter dark places with Shepard.

Upon arrival at the Citadel, her conversation with the Queen of Omega had not lasted a minute. Only long enough for the asari to figure out what Shepard wanted. Aria had barely raised an eyebrow before beckoning to one of her lackeys, whispering in his ear. He had returned with this dancer from Purgatory. Shepard didn't care what the asari's features looked like. She just needed azure.

"You comin', sugar?"

Shepard realized she had paused between light and darkness. Her companion's voice grated on her nerves, but wasn't enough to temper the lava flowing in her blood. Rapidly closing the distance between them, Shepard plastered a hand over the asari's mouth. Her momentum carried them both into the wall. Gloom blanketed them almost completely, only a few slivers of light reached them.

"Shh!" she hissed.

Shepard crushed the asari with the weight of her body and tilted her face to catch the gleam of excited fear in grey eyes. Shifting the hand pressed to the asari's mouth, she pushed two fingers against soft lips until they parted and allowed her access to warm moisture. She felt the scrape of teeth against her knuckles as she thrust her fingers. Tracing a rough line from a hip, up over an ample breast, her free hand came to rest on the maiden's delicate throat.

She closed her fingers.

The asari trembled, her mouth opening slightly in surprise allowing air to mix with moisture surrounding the commander's fingers. Shepard's grip tightened, constricting airflow even more. The asari struggled ineffectually.

"Suck me, goddamn it!" Shepard snarled. Obediently, the asari complied.

Unbidden, the thought of Liara, pistol in hand begging her, crashed into Shepard's mind. She groaned, feeling an unbearable pressure building low. Shepard let go of the asari's throat and jerked her fingers roughly from her mouth.

Gripping a quivering shoulder, Shepard forcefully spun the asari around. She mashed a blue cheek against the wall and held her there. Insinuating her leg between the maiden's, she kicked her companion's feet further apart.

The dancer was wearing a long flowing dress with a sensual slit up the side to reveal beautifully sculpted, long legs. Shepard used it to access flesh, fingernails scraping brutally at a tight thigh in the process. She was frustrated to find no other garments obstructing the prize she sought. She wanted to tear something. Instead she dug her fingers into skin.

The asari whimpered in pain.

The sound reminded the commander of the noises Liara had made before losing consciousness, after she and James had blasted through half a dozen husks to get to her. Immediately her body slackened, the heat doused. She allowed her forehead to fall to the panting asari's shoulder, hands dropping to her sides.

"I'm sorry, Liara," she breathed.

· x ·

Grateful for the artificial darkness of night that hid a grimace of pain, Liara shifted away from the glass railing she had been leaning against while looking out over the Presidium. She slid a hand down her side, gently pressing at the tenderness there. It made her flinch. Doctor Chakwas must have known that Liara was dishonest about the amount of pain she suffered, but the woman had been wise enough not to prevent her from leaving the med bay as soon as she regained mobility. The doctor merely extracted a promise to stay within her quarters and to get as much rest as possible. Liara agreed without hesitation. She had no desire to wander the ship and if she couldn't be out on the battlefield, the best place for her to be of assistance was monitoring the broker network. She had grown restless, however. When they had docked at the Citadel, she had slipped out the airlock in the dead of night and wandered the sleepy Presidium, desperate for a change of scenery.

After a few quick inhalations, Liara set her mouth into a determined line and straightened. Forcing perfect posture was torturous, but Liara would be Goddess damned if she would allow anyone to witness weakness ever again. The incident with Shepard in her quarters had been the last shred of fragility Liara ever intended to display. It was why, on the mission with Vega and Shepard, Liara had been overrun with husks. She had seen a mob of them about to flank the commander. While she would not have been able to fend for herself after her first intense volley of biotics, she had refused to call out for help. The idea had been to draw their attention from Shepard and she had succeeded.

Shepard had to survive. Liara had always known that. She was devoted tirelessly to that end.

Dropping her hand from her side, Liara only managed one excruciating step before a faint rustling sound to her left drew her attention. She immediately summoned her biotics, blue sparks rippling across her skin.

"Oh!" The frightened gasp tumbled out of the shadows, followed by its owner. "Wait! Please, don't—"

"Sneaking up on a biotic is very reckless, young lady."

"I didn't mean to—I-I am sorry to startle you, Dr. T'Soni," Samantha Traynor said, stepping into a pool of light. She looked down at her feet. "Uhm, I wanted to speak with you, but I was… having second thoughts."

Liara wondered if the woman had witnessed her discomfort. Her biotics shivered. Subduing a flash of anger, she forged disinterest. "I am busy, Specialist. If you have something to say, I suggest you do so." She looked sternly at Traynor. "Quickly."

The cold hardness of Liara's gaze made Samantha tremble as she blurted: "Shepard is failing."

Liara struggled. The blue glow died. "I sincerely doubt that."

Somewhere the specialist found the courage to look at her. Her tone adopted an edge. "You have been sequestered for some time, Dr. T'Soni, and before that you were unconscious. How the hell would you know? Jesus." Traynor seemed to have startled herself with unexpected fervour. She ran a shaking hand through her hair. She looked distressed, but must have decided she had gone too far to stop. "Look, forgive me for contradicting you, but I am telling you that there is something wrong with the commander."

"Shepard is likely the most selfish creature I have ever known, Samantha," Liara confessed bitterly. "She would not let anything affect her so deeply as to interfere with her mission, let alone her wellbeing. I would advise you not to concern yourself with the commander."

Given the fleeting look of discontent on the specialist's face, Liara thought the woman might understand the real warning behind her words. Shepard was dangerous. If what she thought she had witnessed in the elevator was any indication of the way things might have gone between the communications officer and the commander, Liara wondered if Samantha had realized it as well. Belittling herself by begging the commander to spare this shy, sweet young woman was the very lowest Liara had ever allowed herself to fall. She hoped the effort had not been made in vain.

The longer Liara scrutinized her trying to determine the truth, the more uncomfortable the woman seemed. Taking pity, Liara consciously softened her features. "There is no need to fear me, Specialist."

Samantha laughed anxiously. "You make that very difficult, Dr. T'Soni."

Liara sighed and gave her a sympathetic look. "Begin by calling me Liara."

"Liara," Traynor repeated, as though trying the name on her tongue. It sounded awkward when she said it; like she was forcing herself to use it. Liara felt a distant sorrow that someone decent might fear her so much as to dislike using her name.

"Well, Liara… I should take my leave. I'm sorry to have bothered you." The specialist began a hasty retreat up the stairs leading to the upper level of the Presidium.

"Wait," Liara called after her. Traynor turned back, one foot on the stair above. "Believe me when I say I am possibly the last person that Shepard would wish to speak to at this point in time, but I shall weigh your concerns. Thank you for bringing them to my attention."

She began to move forward. Although the pain had temporarily been relegated to the background, it came surging forward the moment Liara attempted to join Traynor on the stairs. Unable to hold back a primitive hiss, Liara immediately lost her posture and clamped a hand to her side.

"Dr. T'Soni!" Alarmed, Samantha rushed the remaining distance between them. She placed one hand tenderly on the back of Liara's slumped shoulder, the other gripping her upper arm for support. Traynor ducked down so she could see the pain briefly etched on Liara's face before the asari managed to school it away.

Angry with herself for not making a better show of strength—for breaking her promise to herself—Liara attempted to recover her composure. "It is Liara," she muttered.

"For heaven's sake, _Liara_, does Dr. Chakwas know how much you are suffering?"

"I am well, Specialist."

"Oh yes, I can see that." Traynor's intrinsic, normally supressed, sarcasm surfaced. "I suppose gasping in pain usually convinces people you are invincible?" Liara's lips twitched in what could have been mistaken as a smile. "I won't speak of this again; just let me help you back to the ship."

Liara considered her offer for a long time. Eventually, realising from the look on the young woman's face that she would not be able to refuse assistance if she wanted to, she nodded.

"I—yes, I think I would appreciate that."

· x ·

_Author's Note: _Thanks to AlyssC01 for suggesting some changes and to Huntington's Bride and the_subverter for encouragement.


	7. Chapter 7

· x ·

She rarely slept. Sleeping was a luxury she could not afford. It came at an even steeper price after she had become Shadow Broker, especially now that all of her equipment was crammed into the old executive officer's quarters on the Normandy. The unhealthy glow of her information network's monitors normally lit the room like a landing pad. Tonight, however, their persistent shine had been extinguished at Samantha Traynor's behest.

After helping Liara back to her quarters, Samantha had stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, a frown creasing her cheeks. Liara had weakly protested as the specialist became a whirlwind of activity, shutting off every last monitor until the only light in the room came from Glyph's hovering orb.

"You need rest," Traynor explained. "It was bright as day in here, Liara." Noticing the stricken look on her face, the human had shaken her head and chuckled softly. "Oh come on, it's only for a couple of hours."

Liara reluctantly agreed, touched by Samantha's caring. There were few good things currently in Liara's life that she found herself wanting to hold on to the slightest kindnesses. She had sincerely thanked the young specialist as she left, promising to sleep for a few hours.

Hours later, a clinking noise dragged Liara out of the most decent slumber she'd had in ages. She blinked a few times trying to orient herself. It didn't take long for her to spot the source of the noise that had awoken her, although with wakefulness came discomfort. She ground her teeth together, remaining otherwise immobile.

Shepard sat on a chair beside her bed, the hood of her N7 sweatshirt snugged close about her cheeks to minimize the luminosity of her scars. In her hand she held a tumbler, absently swishing the contents. The ice tinkled against the side of the glass, breaking through the gentle hum of the equipment.

It upset Liara that Shepard had let herself into her quarters uninvited, but the commander had painstakingly pointed out that it was her ship and she would go wherever she pleased. Liara didn't have to like it; if she wanted to be in the best place to assist with the galactic war effort she would have to abide by it—however unsettling.

But the commander looked distant and vulnerable, taking the edge off Liara's irritation.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Liara asked not bothering to mask a hint of sarcasm. She dragged herself into a sit, pulling the covers up to her chin as the only armour available to her. Shepard was startled and spilled the contents of her glass over her hand.

"Shit," Shepard muttered, sucking her fingers. "That was good, aged scotch. Rare."

Liara reached out and clicked on her bedside lamp. The commander squinted. "What are you doing in my quarters, Shepard?"

All traces of vulnerability vanished as a mischievous grin quirked Shepard's lips. "I couldn't fuck—" Liara wanted to ignore the visceral reaction her body had to the way Shepard said the word. It was pointless. Her face heated. "—so I thought I'd drink."

Liara wondered what was wrong with her, because whatever thin threads of anger she still held evaporated, replaced by unsettling confusion and—desire? She loathed that Shepard could turn her on herself so easily. Half asleep and in pain, Liara could barely keep her thoughts composed. She decided composure was overrated.

She strove for it anyway.

Taking a deep, centering breath, Liara met Shepard's intense gaze. "Muireall, please, you need to go. I promise I will speak with you in the morning."

"Don't! Don't call me that," Shepard hissed and then dropped her voice to an anguished whisper. "Nobody calls me that."

Shepard's distress at the use of her given name gave Liara a tiny edge. As much as she wished to expedite Shepard's departure from her room, she would not take advantage of the commander's unusual weakness. Instead she remained silent, watching as Shepard stood up and downed what remained of her drink.

She put the glass down. She dragged her fingers through her hair. She paced.

Liara bore witness to Shepard's slow unravelling.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" Shepard's voice was full of unfamiliar agony. She had stopped pacing with her back to Liara, shoulders slumped forward, hands clenched at her sides. Because no answer was forthcoming, Shepard turned to Liara. The distant vulnerability had resurfaced. "You almost _died_."

Liara had no idea what to say. She felt unnerved as the commander faltered. Traynor had been right, but Shepard wasn't supposed to lose her footing. Liara realized she was primarily responsible, although she hadn't meant for things to deteriorate to such a degree.

In her panic tact failed her. She took the hard line. "This is war, Shepard. I suspect most of us will die. I am prepared to lay down my life so that _you_ have a chance at success."

"I didn't ask for this responsibility!"

"Nevertheless it is yours to bear."

"I don't want—I refuse to pay the price!"

"None of us want to, yet we are all paying some price. I paid mine by ensuring your survival."

Shepard's gaze sharpened. "You did it on purpose, didn't you?"

Unable to meet Shepard's eyes, Liara looked down at the sheets pooled around her legs and didn't answer.

In a flurry of movement, Shepard knelt on the bed and proceeded to scramble on her hands and knees until she loomed over Liara. She roughly grabbed Liara's chin and forced the asari to look into her eyes. "You drew off those husks knowing you probably wouldn't survive."

Liara's lips trembled. She still couldn't trust herself to speak so she merely nodded. Shepard's face reddened in anger and she released Liara to smash a fist into the wall beside her head. "Fuck, Liara. _Why_?"

"You are the only one who matters."

"No. No!"

"Yes, Shepard!" Liara shouted, driven to frustration by Shepard's petulant denial. Ignoring the pain flaring in her side, she gripped the commander by the shoulders. "You ended Saren, destroyed the Collectors, and you are the only one who has killed a reaper. You have the Prothean cypher, you have seen their visions. You hold all the keys. Those of us that follow you do so because we know you are our only hope." Liara couldn't stop there. "_I_ follow you, would _die_ for you, because I—" Liara's voice thickened with emotion "—love you."

Shame heated her face and she looked away, tears springing to her eyes and tracking down her cheeks.

Shepard, stunned, sat back opposite Liara. She covered her face with her hands. Her words came out like a sigh. "You can't. I'm a monster."

"As if I had a choice," Liara muttered, suddenly very tired. "You think I wanted this? You have no idea how hard I fought it. But you are not a monster. I have seen the goodness in you, Shepard. It is buried deep beneath the selfishness, the volatility, the deviousness. It is hidden because you fiercely needed to protect it. At first I thought I could coax it out. Later I realized it did not matter. I did not want to change you on a fundamental level the way you changed me."

"I'm sorry."

Liara shook her head. "I am not looking for an apology." Mortified by her admission, she hastily backhanded the saline from her cheeks. "You have made it excruciatingly clear how you feel about me—"

Shepard's eyes glimmered as she silenced Liara by placing a finger over her lips. "When I said I didn't want that from you… I only meant… I meant… I didn't want you _that_ way. The way I—need others."

"What are you saying?" Liara sniffled, terrified of hope.

Shepard squeezed her eyes shut. She was never interested enough to explain her feelings to another. She found articulating them difficult. "I don't know." Opening her eyes, she found herself caught by an intense blue gaze. Her heart began to pound.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Shepard leaned forward. She tilted Liara's head back and placed a very delicate kiss on her mouth, afraid of using too much pressure, unsure of how it was supposed to feel. "I don't do that. _Ever._ Do you understand now?"

Air stilled in the room, the only discernible sound was that of Shepard's unsteady breathing. A kiss alone was a monumental admission for the commander. Unable to stop herself, Liara fisted her fingers in Shepard's hair at the base of her neck.

Shepard exhaled a pent up breath.

Liara dragged her down, crushing her lips against the velvety heat of the commander's. Their second kiss was feral.

It was bruising.

It tasted of scotch.

Liara had never experienced anything so sweet.

· x ·


	8. Chapter 8

· x ·

Shepard was slow to find consciousness. Her mouth tasted like a Batarian spittoon and her head spun like the Normandy during evasive maneuvers. She was lying uncomfortably on her side, both hands tucked next to her head. She opened her eyes and blinked, attempting to clear the crud. Lifting her head slightly, she absorbed enough of her environment before having to slam her lids shut to combat the strobe of the club's lights.

Attempting to rise turned out to be a very bad plan. She slid sideways, catching herself on her hands and knees next to the couch with her chin touching her chest as she fought to keep her stomach under control. Her breath came in short, erratic bursts.

"Don't do it, Shepard. You will be sorry."

Aria T'Loak's warning came too late. Shepard lost the battle with her stomach and heaved copious amounts of undigested alcohol all over the floor next to the very pissed off asari. Aria made a disgusted noise and planted a firm toe in Shepard's side. She applied a little pressure and the commander fell over, curling into a ball and clutching her stomach.

Aria crouched down next to her and used her hair to wrench her head back. Shepard tried her best to focus on the asari's face, but her eyes were watering badly and she couldn't decide which of the three the real Aria was.

"_Vile._ The fate of the galaxy rests on a sorry excuse for a human who can't even hold her alcohol? You disgust me." Aria let Shepard's head fall back to the floor as she rose to her full height, looking down on the commander through narrowed eyes.

"Fuck you," Shepard managed as she pushed herself up until she leaned on one hand.

To her surprise, Aria threw her head back and laughed. "You couldn't manage to fuck a primed maiden, Shepard, what makes you think you could entertain _me_?" Aria extended a hand to help Shepard up. She simultaneously motioned to one of her attendants, who brought over a large glass of water. Aria situated Shepard upright on the couch and handed her the water. "But that's much better. More like the Shepard I know, not at all like the coward that showed up here a couple of hours ago."

Shepard rested her forehead against the cold sweat on the outside of the glass, squeezing her eyes shut. She tried desperately to remember how she had ended up passed out on Aria's couch.

The corner of the commander's mouth turned down as she coaxed the fuzzy memories to the surface. Shepard would not normally tolerate being called a coward, but in this case it seemed Aria may have been correct. She had kissed Liara, had allowed Liara to kiss her again. She had been drunk and Liara had been alternately hard and vulnerable, somehow working her way through Shepard's defenses. No one had ever been able to manipulate her as Liara could, although she doubted the asari knew how pliable she made the commander.

It wasn't until she had gripped Liara by the waist to try to lower her to the mattress and the asari had gasped in pain that Shepard came to her senses. She had immediately backed away, sliding off the bed and all but flying from Liara's quarters. The commander had escaped to Purgatory for oblivion. She drank until their conversation—the scorching reality of their kiss—had become a hazy mess and she forgot that Liara suffered because of damnable altruism.

"Listen, Shepard, you and I are a lot alike. If we find it intact, we have a tendency to break it." Aria sat down next to the commander and spread her arms across the back of the couch, glancing over at Shepard with steely blue-gray eyes. "Sometimes a thing needs to be broken in order to mend it."

The commander stared at the water, watching little droplets of condensation form on the bottom of the glass before swelling and falling away. It reminded her of the way blood had dripped from Liara's fingers. The thought of Liara bleeding caused Shepard's hands to involuntarily bunch into tight fists. Her whole body vibrated as tension coursed through her. She had taken a leap forward by opening herself up to Liara, expressing her feelings in her repressed way. Although, in reality it felt like she had staggered several paces back.

_Coward. _

Aria shifted closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "You didn't even have to work at breaking your little asari." Shepard's jaw tightened, her eyelids narrowing in silent, deadly warning. Aria ignored her. "When Feron dragged her to Omega, he tried to shield her by acting as a buffer. I teased her a little, asked her if she'd been able to speak for herself when she was on the Normandy." Aria's teasing lilt stiffened at the sight of Shepard's fierce expression. "But that timid archeologist transformed herself into something more for you, didn't she? You were dead and she was splintered—forced to become something more than she was. Yes, I'd say she did all the work for you."

Shepard shifted, angry and uncomfortable. She had little idea of what Liara had gone through to obtain her dead body. She never bothered to ask the asari. She didn't need the details to feel the guilt. The fewer specifics she had, the easier it was to stuff the responsibility for Liara's current demeanor into the deepest, darkest hole within her psyche. The only time she had acknowledged it aloud had been with Traynor, during a brief moment of weakness while Liara lay bleeding in the med bay.

"Enough," Shepard muttered, pressing her face into her hands.

Aria shrugged her shoulders and looked away from the commander, staring straight ahead instead. "You may not be able to save earth, Shepard. You might fail the universe. The reapers could destroy us all."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Let me be clear: If I'm going to die, I intend to die happy. You should at least try to do the same. A piece of that sweet little asari's ass might actually motivate you."

"Point taken."

"Good, now get the fuck out of my bar."

· x ·


	9. Chapter 9

· x ·

Liara's cheek twitched as a bullet chewed a chunk out of the side of the rock she was sheltered behind. Had the shot been made moments sooner, it would have blasted through her face. She felt beads of cold sweat spring to her forehead and her limbs numbed like deadweight. She crouched under cover, trembling, completely at the mercy of bitter fear.

Weeks had followed Shepard's abrupt departure from Liara's quarters, during which the commander studiously evaded her. To avoid dwelling on the underlying rejection and confusion Shepard's actions provoked, Liara had tried to keep herself busy with the information network. But it seemed to be giving her more headaches than useful intel. Eventually, when the pain eased and she grew so restless that she feared going out of her mind, Liara had taken to visiting the gym to work at regaining her former strength.

It had been a struggle, but she managed to persuade Chakwas to sign off on her health, allowing her to return to active duty. Convincing Shepard to let her join the ground team had been far easier than she anticipated. Liara suspected that it had more to do with Shepard's desire to vacate her vicinity. In fact she thought that had Shepard not been so distracted by Liara's presence, she might have downright refused.

Now with her back pressed flat against the rock, trying to seem as small as possible, Liara realized she might not be ready for combat after all. She had clearly been more than just physically affected by her near-death experience. Her hands quivered so much that she had to put down her pistol so that she could dig her fingertips into her lightly armoured thighs.

An explosion sounded nearby, causing the asari to jump. She almost lost her cover. Gasping frantically, the sounds around her began to narrow until Liara could no longer hear anything but the cacophony of her own fitful heartbeat. In her periphery, she noticed a short, tubular black shape land a few feet away. She cocked her head to look, absently engaged by the shiny red lights on its surface. She blinked a few times. The lack of oxygen flowing to her brain made everything a fuzzy jumble, yet some tiny survival instinct was screaming at her to move. She simply could not convince her limbs to obey.

Suddenly, she was tackled from the side and bowled over. Strong hands forced their way beneath her arms and dragged her for several yards. Seconds later a massive body draped itself over her prostrate form just as another explosion rocked the earth, showering them with fiery debris. Her hearing returned as bits of landscape thudded around her, jarring her back to reality.

She must have begun trembling again, because James, propped up on his forearms, regarded her sympathetically. "You're okay, Blue. I got you," he said.

While his shields had absorbed most of the impact, Liara noted the way he winced as he clambered off to crouch next to her. He seemed stiff as he lifted his shotgun and glanced around before assisting her up. He motioned for her to follow him to a low outcropping that would afford both of them cover.

Now that she had been released from panic, she felt shame colour her cheeks. "I am sorry, Lieutenant." She couldn't keep her voice from vibrating.

James shot her another compassionate glance before focusing back on the battlefield. "It happens to the best of us." He cocked his shotgun, ducked out and fired. She started at the thunderous noise. James was so in tune with his environment that he noticed her discomfort even though he was not looking directly at her. He remained focused, but reached back and reassuringly patted her shoulder.

It seemed like an eternity passed as Liara sat beside James trying to gather the fine threads of her composure. Eventually, the sounds of the battlefield died away and a blanket of quiet descended. At first Liara was alarmed, thinking her hearing had zeroed out again, until she realized the fighting had actually ceased. James turned around and sat, leaning back against the rock, exhausted, as he reported to Shepard quietly. After, he reclined his head and closed his eyes, breathing confidently.

Liara lowered her face into her hands, startled to feel dampness there. Her humiliation deepened.

A shadow fell over them and the asari looked up. Shepard stood there, hands on her hips, looking absolutely apoplectic.

"What. The. Fuck. T'Soni?"

Without bothering to wait for an answer, Shepard leaned down and gripped Liara's arm. She dragged her up and pulled her a discrete distance away from James. As they walked, Shepard's face turned a deeper shade of red. By the time Shepard released her arm, Liara was certain she would sport a new bruise.

"Chakwas cleared you. _You_ assured me you were ready for duty!" Shepard hissed. Her face was so close to Liara's that furious spittle peppered the asari. "_You risked my team._"

Liara felt a vein in her forehead twitch, signalling she was about to lose her poise. Embarrassment over her complete and utter shutdown in the field and the affirmation that she had once again made a glorious display of weakness served to fuel the onset of irrationality.

"If you paid any sort of attention at all, _Commander_, you would have known otherwise," Liara snarled.

Shepard barked out an incredulous laugh. "You're blaming me?"

"You are the commanding officer. It is your job to assess the fitness of your team. You were in such a hurry to get away from me that you did not bother to evaluate my condition for yourself." Liara stared, daring Shepard to respond so that she could continue to rage. Opening the floodgates might have been a mistake, but it acted as a temporary balm for everything that was wrong between them.

Shepard's cheeks ridged out as her teeth grit. "You are out of line."

"_I am_ out of line?" Liara turned her back, paced away. She needed space.

A noise caused her to turn back. Abruptly, the asari surged forward. The human became rigid at Liara's sudden proximity. She was too slow to react as Liara unclipped Shepard's pistol from her armour and then leapt back again, pointing it directly in her face.

Cold light lit Shepard's eyes. "What did I tell you about pulling a gun on me, T'Soni?"

Liara's hands didn't shake; there was no hesitation as she pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. And then again.

Shepard twisted to the side, falling to her hands and knees in the dirt. Liara tossed the pistol and dropped down next to the human, putting a hand on her back. The commander, clearly shaken, lifted her head and was staring at the twitching form of a dying Cerberus operative.

James ran up, his regulation shit-kickers spraying dirt over them as they hunkered together. "Goddamn! You two all right?"

Shepard shrugged Liara off. She grabbed the pistol the asari had abandoned, rose to her feet and walked over to the fallen trooper. She planted a bullet into the facemask of his helmet.

"Let's just get the hell out of here."

· x ·

* * *

_Author's Note_: For those of you who haven't already done so, I recommend that you read Midnight Lion's "Pressure". It's fantastic. I have no words to describe just _how_ fantastic.


	10. Chapter 10

· x ·

Liara was too unsettled to do anything. Her idle wandering of the ship, looking for somewhere quiet to process, had ended in Life Support. Upon arriving in the small room, she immediately closed the panels in front of the enormous light source. Only one monitor, mounted on the left wall over the lone desk, spread a faint orange glow. Liara reached up and shut it off, plunging herself into complete darkness.

She stood absolutely still in obscurity with only her rampant thoughts for company.

Liara was unprepared for such an adverse reaction to being back on the battle field. She thought the humans might have a clinical term for what had happened—James had even implied that what she experienced was not unusual among soldiers, but Liara would not accept that kind of weakness from herself. There was far too much at stake.

She just needed time to decompress. If she assessed what had happened and managed to get to the root of the problem, she would be able control her responses the next time she was engaged in a firefight. Try as she might, however, she couldn't brain her way through it. The bottom line was that Liara was an archeologist, not a soldier. The last few years of training herself to be distant and calculating had finally extracted their toll. This time she had suffered a substantial regression. Under all the stress, the thick skin she had constructed to protect herself had become malleable.

The worst part, she realized, was that she could no longer blame Shepard. Years ago, Liara's decisions had been made with the commander's survival at heart, but she could have gone on just as the rest of the original Normandy crew had. She could have mourned Shepard and continued to live her lonely life. Of course, she would have resumed trying to persuade the council that the Reapers were a genuine threat so that when they hit maybe the galaxy could have stood a chance.

The thought sent cold shivers through her. That existence was as incomprehensible now as it had been back then. Despite the havoc they inflicted upon one another's emotional states with the disturbing dance they were engaged in, Liara knew she and Shepard were destined to be equal parts of a whole.

If Liara died, Shepard _would_ be lost. With that realization, the strength in Liara's legs gave out and she sank down to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them to create a protective cocoon of limbs.

She shivered uncontrollably and remained that way, numb, until the doors of the room swished open and someone came in. The person stood behind her for a moment, only moving forward when they realized that Liara had no intention of acknowledging their company. The newcomer turned on the small lamp on the desk before the doors closed and retracted the light.

Eventually, Liara lifted her head to look into Samantha Traynor's wide, kind-hearted brown eyes. Her lips trembled as she saw what Traynor carried in her hands: a soft-looking blanket and cup of something that steamed. Unable to help herself, Liara let out a strangled sob and tucked her head back down, curling into an even tighter ball. Every ounce of distress Liara had been bottling away now flooded through her and she broke down because of Traynor's benevolent, bracing presence.

"Hey. Come on. Hey now, it's okay." Traynor spoke softly, as she carelessly placed the cup of liquid on the desk before taking the blanket and throwing it over Liara's shoulders. She sat down next to the asari and gathered her in her arms, rubbing Liara's back lightly while muttering unintelligible, soothing words.

It seemed like an eternity before Liara regained her composure enough to form her own words. Although when she opened her mouth to thank Traynor the words would not come out. She smiled instead and carefully disentangled herself from the young human's embrace.

"I thought you might like some tea," Traynor ventured as she stood up, offering a hand to help Liara. "James, uhm, told me what happened. He was discrete, don't worry, he just thought you might like someone to talk to. I guess I'm the only one on the ship who is auspicious. I assume that's why he approached me, anyway." The human wrinkled her nose and frowned a little. "Sorry, I'm babbling. Here, it's peppermint. It helps to settle an upset tummy. I thought… well, I thought if you were upset maybe you could use a little soothing. Your tummy."

She held out the cup for Liara and when the asari took it, she wrapped her hands around Liara's so that the asari felt warmth on both sides of her cold fingers. When Traynor let go, Liara brought the tea close to her face and sniffed, captivated by the wonderful aroma of the beverage. She had never had peppermint tea before and the first sip was like rapture. She eagerly took a second sip.

"This is delightful," Liara said. "Thank you."

"Sure," Traynor said as she bobbed her head. "Is… are you all right, Liara?"

Taking another sip, Liara replied, "I apologize, Samantha, I'm not really up for a conversation right now, if that is okay?"

"Of course. Yes." Traynor spoke quickly and Liara didn't miss the hint of disappointment in the specialist's voice. She felt a pang of guilt. It was clear that Traynor was extending her hand in friendship, on her way to genuinely caring for Liara. But the asari was not in a place where she could emotionally invest in building a new friendship. Maybe if she could sort out the mess with Shepard, Liara could regain enough of herself to offer a piece to Traynor. Goddess knew the woman deserved it.

Liara set the cup down on the desk, and began to remove the blanket from her shoulders with the intention of returning it to the specialist. Samantha merely put up a hand, palm out. "No, please, keep it until you feel better. You can return it later."

Liara didn't speak as the specialist smiled and walked around her toward the door. Halfway to the exit, Traynor turned back. "Don't hang out with darkness, Liara. It's not good for you."

The door slid open as the young woman approached it. To Liara's surprise Shepard entered from the other side and leaned against the jamb as Traynor saluted, then quickly passed through. The commander watched the specialist until she disappeared, her arms crossed over her chest. When the young woman had gone, Shepard turned her focus to Liara. She pushed off from the door frame.

Liara's stomach dropped. She didn't know if she could handle another confrontation with the commander. Not when she was this raw.

"Shepard," Liara said, clutching the blanket about her shoulders and drawing it tighter.

The commander said nothing as she walked around Liara. She held the asari's gaze, though, as she hopped up to sit on the desk. She picked up the cup of tea, sniffing it as Liara had done. The commander took a sip and smiled. "Has Traynor been taking good care of you, Liara?"

Liara couldn't judge by her tone of voice if Shepard meant something more than what she said, so she merely shrugged. "The specialist would make a good friend."

"Or more than a friend?" Shepard enquired.

Liara sighed. _There it is, _she thought. "Would it matter?" Shepard stared. "Goddess, you cannot be serious." Her words were flat. She was too depleted to become vexed at the human's idiocy.

"Why not?"

"You had your chance."

"Does that mean there is something between you then?"

"There will never be anyone but you," Liara whispered harshly, finally exasperated. "Even if we are too twisted to make something of this—whatever it is—Shepard, I will _never_ love anyone else. There is not time to find actual happiness."

"Do you still want to make something of this?"

As a blatant betrayal, Liara's heart picked up its pace. In an attempt to remain safe, she said, "We can't seem to stop being angry at each other long enough."

Shepard slid off the table and approached the asari. "Liara, as little as the words are worth, I am sorry. You were right," she admitted, astounding Liara to the point where her mouth unhinged and fell open. "I should have made sure you were okay."

"Shepard—"

"No," the commander held up her hand, "let me finish. You know I'm not used to worrying about anyone other than myself outside of my command requirements. I've been avoiding you because you— this scares me, Liara. There isn't much I'm afraid of, but this could be my undoing. Not the Reapers. Not goddamned Cerberus." Shepard waved a hand between them. "Us." She poked a finger at Liara's chest. "_You._"

Liara looked down, blinking, startled. She rarely heard Shepard string so many words together all at once. The woman truly must have spent a long time pondering their situation. That Shepard had agonized as much as Liara made the asari feel slightly better, as though she hadn't actually been alone in her suffering.

Shepard hooked a finger beneath Liara's chin and tilted her head up so that she could see the lovely blue of Liara's irises. "Has my chance truly passed?"

"Goddess, forgive me," Liara mumbled. "No."

· x ·


	11. Chapter 11

· x ·

Shepard withdrew into herself. The resulting silence stretched, thinning until Liara felt edgy. The glassy vacancy that shone in Shepard's eyes, as the commander processed her own confession, ripped away the anchors of calm that Specialist Traynor's kindness had put in place. Memories of panic surged in Liara's mind, leaving her adrift once more.

Liara touched her cheek. Instead of a shaky hand, she felt chunks of rock spattering her face as the bullet partially obliterated her cover. She sat next to a live grenade thinking how pretty its glowing indicator lights had been.

Liara had been consumed by fear.

Safe with the deck of the Normandy firmly beneath her feet, Liara couldn't completely ground herself. She needed to feel connected to someone. Traynor had offered a buoy of friendship, but Liara had not reached for it and Shepard's arrival had cut the tenuous line.

Liara's hand moved to her throat, feeling clammy skin beneath her fingertips. Recognition of the contact solidified the notion that she was alive, but it wasn't enough. It might never be enough again. She wondered if that was how Shepard had felt when she had awoken, cold and alone after having been dead for two years.

"Shepard," Liara whispered tremulously.

Saying the commander's name unleashed yearning within the asari. It was then that Liara knew without a doubt what she needed: absolute possession. Shepard's scorching touch could wipe every thought from her mind. There would be no more doubt, no more fear.

It would be a willing indoctrination, resulting in the total annihilation of Liara.

Liara thoughtlessly shed the warmth of the blanket Traynor had given her. It slipped off her shoulders and pooled at her feet as her fingers found the clips that secured the collar of her jacket. Moving methodically, she unfastened them.

Shepard's attention riveted to the asari and her demeanor shifted. Judging by the quizzical look on her face, the commander had not yet connected to what was happening. But as Liara's fingers worked, Shepard's expression transformed from curious, detached observation into something Liara couldn't identify.

Liara shrugged out of her long coat, exposing a gray Alliance compression shirt that hugged every curve of her lithe body. She watched as Shepard's eyes flicked covetously over her. Emboldened, Liara crossed her arms over her chest, hands trailing slowly from her shoulders, over her breasts and down the muscled planes of her stomach, coming to a stop at the button of her pants. Using the pad of her thumb, Liara flicked open the button and deliberately spread the fly, revealing the barest hint of matching gray underclothes. She wiggled a little to help push the stiff blue and white pants down over her hips.

Once completely divested of her light armour, Liara pushed the pile aside with her foot and stood statuesque for Shepard, clad in nothing but her underclothes, hoping the commander would take an active role in removing the rest. The red blaze of the commander's irises flared and her lips parted slightly, but the rest of her features had reassembled into an unreadable mask.

Liara, not wanting to entertain the notion that she might have made a grave mistake, repositioned herself closer to the human and brushed an errant lock of auburn away from her face by sliding her fingers along Shepard's cheek. The commander's initial reaction was instantaneous. Her shoulders twitched back as her spine straightened, followed by a momentary stiffening of her limbs.

Liara barely managed to blink before powerful fingers clamped around her delicate wrists and forced them down until they were pinned to her thighs, immobilized.

"What are you doing?" Shepard's voice was husky. The question was rhetorical, although laced with a thin current of tension. The commander was visibly uncomfortable.

Liara couldn't speak. The strength of Shepard's grip had tripped a switch in her mind, causing thrilled fear to stress her senses. It was a fear she could handle, representative of Shepard's ownership over her. She separated her suddenly parched lips, wetting them with a delicate swipe of her tongue. Eyes narrowing again, Shepard watched the motion.

Liara heard a definitive hitch in the commander's breathing moments before the woman stirred. Shepard walked them backwards until Liara felt the edge of the desk bump her backside. Slapping Traynor's cold tea away to clear space, the human then used her hold on Liara to flip the asari around; bending Liara over the desk before fitting her body over her. Pinning her down with her own weight, Shepard stretched Liara's arms out in front of her, forcing the asari into a position where she could only be comfortable by resting her cheek against the cold surface. Her wrists were gathered in one of Shepard's fists. The knuckles of Shepard's other hand pressed unpleasantly into the small of her back, curling under the waistband of her panties. Liara felt her cheeks suffuse with heat as the human's breath played against the side of her neck. Shepard inhaled deeply, making Liara wonder if she could smell arousal mingled with her fear.

"I can't—You can't touch me."

"Shepard, please."

She shifted her hips beneath the human, attempting to create enough space between them so that she could turn to look at Shepard. Squirming only pressed her ass more firmly into Shepard's pelvis and the movement had an immediate effect on the commander. She went rigid.

"Stop. Moving."

Liara liked that Shepard's voice strained, liked that she was struggling to maintain her composure. The words had been meant as a warning that Liara would not like the consequences if she didn't follow Shepard's orders. In truth, they gave Liara power over her; power she intended on wielding, because it was all the dominance she would ever have over the commander.

Purposely writhing again, she pulled her captured hands toward herself and attempted to raise her torso off the desk. As expected, she failed, but Shepard's fragile control snapped. The woman growled, a decidedly inhuman sound, and let go of Liara's wrists so that she could grasp the back of the asari's neck. She pushed Liara's face more firmly into the surface of the desk.

"_Fuck._" Shepard exhaled the word slowly, causing muscles Liara didn't even know existed to tighten viscerally.

With a shove, Shepard abandoned her hold on Liara, using both of her hands to rip away the asari's panties. Liara shouted, jerking against Shepard to combat the excruciating friction. Skin around her legs burned uncomfortably where the material and elastic had strained before giving way to Shepard's brute strength. The human reached around and pressed her palms to Liara's thighs, just below the burning flesh, to ease the sting.

"What do you want from me?"

Shepard sounded tortured. She was poised to do something she clearly wanted—needed—yet seemed to know that pursuing her desires would mean the destruction of not only Liara, but herself as well.

"Oblivion."

The single word was all the permission Shepard needed. Lifting her hands so only the tips of her fingers touched Liara's skin, the commander drew gentle lines up her inner thighs. Without warning, Shepard leaned back, relieving Liara of most of her weight and robbing her of her touch. A nearly inaudible sigh of loss escaped Liara, before Shepard kicked her legs further apart. Then Shepard's hands were there, grasping Liara's ass and digging possessively into the flesh. Pain shot vulgar pleasure through her. Though Liara was expecting Shepard's coarse approach to sex, the brow-beaten romantic in her _almost_ wished it were happening in another, more symbiotic way.

Every thought was abruptly terminated as one of Shepard's hands slipped heavily over the shapely muscle of her backside to rest between her legs. Her fingers ran lightly through the moisture pooled there, before crudely entering her. Liara's head jerked back, an indelicate grunt escaping her. Vigorous heat burned its way through every nerve over her entire body.

The way Shepard moved—fingers filling, stirring within her—was gentler than Liara expected, feeling less like a provoked violation and more like an approximation of genuine intimacy.

"I didn't want it to be like this."

Shepard's whispered confession startled Liara. Tears pooled in her eyes at the sincerity of the commander's words. Liara believed in that instant, more than ever before, that Shepard regretted her initial rejection of Liara years ago. The human wished the dynamic between them were different. Squeezing her eyes shut, forcing tears to leak down her cheeks, Liara pushed against the commander, roughening the experience even as Shepard sought tenderness that Liara would refuse to accept. It had no place in her quest to create a void within herself.

Blunt fingernails scratched up her back through the material of Liara's shirt, causing her to arch into the desk, to settle once more on her neck. Few knew that the asari had an erogenous zone at the base of their skull, tucked discreetly beneath the cartilage of their crest. Shepard brushed the pad of her finger lightly over the verge. Liara whimpered while driving more fervently against the fingers buried in her core.

A second swipe caused Liara to nearly lose the ability for coherent thought. She had to shove her hand into her mouth and clamp down with her teeth to prevent herself from initiating an unwanted meld with the commander.

Shepard slowly withdrew her fingers from Liara, eliciting a frustrated whimper from the asari. Tender humiliation tempered her need to beg the human not to stop. Instead, Liara clung to the desk, panting. She felt Shepard's fingers on her neck, holding her down as an ache grew between her legs and a profound sense of loss suffused her body.

Too much time passed with no movement from Shepard. Liara, growing increasingly self-conscious, shifted slightly.

"What did I tell you about moving? Now you're going to have to beg. I can see you want to." Liara heard a vague tremor in Shepard's words, as though she were concealing underlying fears with artificial confidence.

"Shepard…"

"Beg, Liara!"

A purple blush of embarrassment crept up Liara's neck and settled high on her cheekbones as the words escaped her mouth, "Shepard, please… Oh, Goddess—Shepard, I want to—please!"

Shepard mercilessly plunged her fingers into Liara again as she simultaneously teased the sensitive spot beneath her crest. Liara snapped rigid, her muscles bunching tightly, crying out hoarsely as the unbearable, aching pressure was nearly relieved. But Shepard eased away again before Liara completely crested, leaving the asari hanging at a disturbing midpoint. In the end, residual sensations pushed her over the edge.

In the wake of pleasure, Liara's body relaxed and she was barely able to support herself on weak legs. She was too languorous to realize that Shepard had actually retreated some distance away to stand partially obscured by darkness. As her heartbeat settled into a more stable rhythm, Liara composed herself enough to stand and turn around.

The commander was leaning against the wall, watching Liara as she gathered her clothes and slipped into them. Shepard held Liara's ruined panties in her hands.

"I didn't want it to be like that," Shepard repeated, turning the fabric over in her fingers.

"I have never asked you to be anything other than what you are, Shepard."

· x ·

* * *

_Author's Note_: I want to thank these people for lending me their assistance: ccryder, Midnight Lion and RevolvingAbyss. As always, I'd also like to acknowledge the_subverter, Midnight Lion, PMC65, LogicalPremise and Huntington's Bride for being incredible, inspiring writers.


	12. Chapter 12

Each fleck that touched her skin burned deep cavities into cheeks already hot with disgraceful fire.

She had staggered under the brutal weight of a congratulatory pat on the back from Wrex who stood, uncharacteristically awe struck and silent along with his clansmen and the rest of her ground team. She wished that he would continue to pound her until she became a disgusting paste of blood and bone, good for nothing except fertilizing the Tuchankan dirt.

It might have been easier if Mordin had taken a shot at her in self-defence. Instead, the stubborn rat bastard had turned and walked away. Shepard had been driven to shoot him in the back. The action solidified the fact that she clearly was a monster. She told herself that it was a regrettable necessity; salarian scientific support was more important to the war effort than _just_ krogan muscle and turian military prowess. But even that didn't slow the creeping expanse of depravity Shepard actively worked to keep from devouring her soul.

Compounding the guilt she was unaccustomed to experiencing, it seemed Shepard was continually making deplorable decisions. Her skin still crawled with distaste at the way she had lost control with Liara the night before. Ungrounded and susceptible, Liara had offered herself to Shepard amidst the gloom.

No one should ever expose weakness to Shepard while ensconced in darkness, least of all Liara.

The moment the asari had drawn her fingers tenderly down Shepard's cheek was the moment their fates had been sealed. Shepard could no longer control her base desires, couldn't stop the need that had been simmering between them for years. Denial ceased to be an option for either of them, yet Shepard regretted how it happened.

She desperately wanted to be different for Liara. She wanted, for once in her life, to be _good_ for someone. That Liara easily absolved her with complete acceptance made Shepard feel even more loathsome. By all rights, Liara should hate her. Shepard was the hurricane force behind all the despair that had befallen the shy archeologist.

Bile turned sour in her stomach and she forced herself to stand straighter and look at Wrex, willing him to realize he had been betrayed. Letting him pulverize her would be _so_ easy. On the verge of speaking, the truth begging to be released from the prison of her lips, Shepard took several steps forward.

Her momentum arrested by a light grip on her arm, Shepard turned to see Liara's steadfast presence at her side. Her breath shortened, causing a painful ache in her chest. The asari showed no outwardly adverse effects from Shepard's abuse, and etched across her features was an expression of concern. Her eyes shone inquisitively as she sought insight into what the commander was thinking.

Something Liara saw on Shepard's face made a crease form between her brows. She tugged with gentle urgency on the commander's arm. Shepard allowed herself to be led a discrete distance away.

Shepard saw Liara catch herself as she raised a hand to touch the human's face. Fingers hovering just shy of the commander's chin, the concern bled into her posture.

"I have never seen this one before," Liara said. After carefully considering the possible consequences, she gently touched the tips of her fingers to Shepard's skin. Feeling the newly formed, blistering ridge there, Liara's eyes widened and she jerked her hand back. Her words tumbled out in a disturbed rush. "Goddess, your skin is splitting!"

Shepard didn't flinch at Liara's touch, but crossed her arms defensively, then shrugged away instead. Turning her face so the new scar was hidden, she said, "Then don't watch."

Liara made a frustrated noise. "Please do not do that."

"Do what?"

"Shut me out."

"I wasn't aware that I had let you in."

Liara's mouth snapped shut and her lips thinned into a furious line, cheeks jutting out as her teeth ground together. Her nostrils flared and her chest heaved with the considerable effort to keep herself in check to avoid making a scene in front of the others.

When she managed to calm herself enough to speak again, her voice was low and imposing. "You are not fooling me, Shepard."

Gravel crunched beneath Shepard's heels as she turned to strike out for the shade of a distant tomkah. She didn't want Liara to see that she was cracking in much the same way her face had.

"I would help you, if only you would let me," Liara called softly.

Shepard felt a part of herself crumble away. She hoped it wasn't a vital part, like the thick skin that kept her impervious to emotional harm. She stopped, dust swirling up her legs to envelop her in a thin cloud. Her shoulders dragged forward.

"I killed Mordin," she admitted, guilt seasoning the statement.

She heard Liara's sharp intake of startled breath from somewhere behind her. More dust churned as the asari carefully approached. The unspoken question of "why" hung in the air between them, but Liara waited with infinite patience.

"The salarians sabotaged the shroud," Shepard explained. "Dalatrass Linron gave me an ultimatum." When she looked up, Liara was regarding her compassionately. "Mordin knew. He wanted to repair it. I couldn't allow—" Shepard stopped, looking regretfully over at the massive krogan and his clansmen. She took a deep breath and focused back on Liara. "The war effort needs their big fucking brains."

"Goddess, Shepard!"

"The things I have to do..." She touched the new scar. "I feel as though I'm being... torn apart."

"Why did you not tell me?"

Shepard felt her throat stick. She had to swallow several times before she could speak. "I didn't want to involve you."

Face purpling in frustration, Liara struggled to control her voice. "I _am_ involved, Shepard." She grabbed the commander's hand. "I am with you."

Fighting the desire to snatch her hand back, Shepard stared at the ground in discomfort. There were thousands of things she wanted to say to Liara; not a single word was brave enough to push past the cold block of self-contempt.

Liara seemed to sense the turmoil; she squeezed her hand tighter. "You can talk to me."

Her first instinct was to balk, except that she felt she owed Liara something, even if it was just a watery apology. "I made a mistake."

"The salarians forced your hand, Shepard."

"Not that. I meant… last night…"

"Oh," Liara said, letting go of Shepard's hand to catch flecks of the faux cure. She studied the flakes as they evaporated. "You gave me _exactly_ what I asked for—what I _needed_. I do not consider it a mistake."

Shepard's frown was awash with disbelief. "I've never been able to give someone what they needed."

"There has to be a starting point for everything."

· x ·


	13. Chapter 13

Her heartbeat kicked up a pace. Sweat trickled down the side of her face, and she slapped at it in exaggerated irritation.

Fear was not something Samantha was accustomed to feeling as a communication's specialist. Crunching numbers and deciphering data was not frightening. Basic training might have been, a bit, but that was so long ago that she couldn't quite recall it.

She was standing in front of Shepard's quarters after the commander had refused to acknowledge various attempts to contact her. Traynor could feel the stiffening of her limbs as she tried to suppress her flight instinct. Palms rubbing at her thighs, Traynor waited anxiously for Shepard to grant her access. With all the other things to fear, Samantha felt it was mildly ridiculous to be afraid of her commanding officer.

That didn't make it easier.

Eventually, the threat of lasting damage to her nerves bolstered the specialist's courage. Unfortunately, there was a wobble in her voice as she spoke. "EDI?"

"Yes, Specialist Traynor?"

"I would appreciate it if you would unlock the commander's quarters, please."

She thought she could discern a pause before EDI answered, in which she imagined AI was contemplating warning her against such a dangerous decision. Instead of responding, EDI simply complied.

"EDI?"

"Yes, Specialist Traynor?"

"I normally wouldn't ask you to do that, but Hackett is on vidcom and Shepard isn't answering and—"

"Specialist, the probability that you would wish to interrupt the commander with something trivial, at exponential risk to your own health, is less than .08 percent."

Traynor couldn't help but smile. "Ah, right. Well, uhm, wish me luck."

"Good luck," the AI said.

Sucking in a quick, deep breath, she blew it out through her mouth before letting herself into Shepard's quarters. Immediately, she was assaulted by noise. A deep reverberation smashed against her chest and her first reaction was to jerk back, simultaneously crushing the heels of her hands against her ears.

It was a long moment before Samantha realized that she was uninjured, and actually slightly aggravated. She gingerly removed her hands from her ears. With her heart hammering in her chest, Traynor grit her teeth and stormed down the stairs to stand unnoticed in the commander's rearranged sitting area.

The couches and table had been shoved to the side and Shepard had set up a large contraption. Traynor thought it looked familiar, but she didn't have the capacity to concentrate while Shepard continued to assault her auditory senses.

The commander sat with a pair of shaped wooden sticks expertly balanced in her fingers. She brought the sticks down on the drums in rapid succession creating an almost pleasant mix of popping, hissing and cracking sounds. With every tap of Shepard's foot, the punch resonated.

The more Samantha listened, the more enthralled she became. Her irritation slipped away until all she experienced was Shepard's therapy. The woman was clad in long-sleeved, white button-down shirt, a pair of oversized uniform pants and her Alliance shit-kickers. Her face was a determined mask, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she thrashed the instrument.

Samantha didn't realize the commander had noticed her until the woman stilled the final spank of the cymbal with her fingers. The sudden absence of sound kicked Traynor in the belly and a small gasp escaped her lungs as she lifted her gaze to Shepard's.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, her chest rising and falling with the exertion of furious playing.

"Admiral Hackett is on vidcom," Samantha announced in a tone that made it sound like it should be obvious why she had invaded Shepard's quarters. She clamped her mouth shut before sucking her bottom lip in to chew on it uneasily, expecting a harsh reprimand for her flippant response.

To her surprise, Shepard ignored her. The woman stood up and stretched her arms over her head, causing her shirt to ride up and expose her exquisitely toned belly. Traynor might even have been inappropriately distracted if it weren't for the criss-crossing of angry, luminescent scars that splashed the commander's skin.

It was all the specialist could do to keep her startled—bordering on horrified—reaction from manifesting on her face. She obviously knew the commander sported scars, but when confronted with the fact that they were spread over her entire body, Traynor felt her initial mortification transform into compassion.

"Great," Shepard said contemptuously as she finished twisting from side to side and flexing her arms. "You are dismissed, Specialist."

Traynor found herself rooted to the floor. She blinked stupidly at the woman before her, mouth working wordlessly. Shepard seemed amused by her inability to articulate and she moved around the drum set to stand closer.

"Problem?" she enquired.

Traynor clambered back into herself. "No. Uhm, I mean no, Ma'am. My apologies, Ma'am."

Shepard simply stared at Traynor. She appeared to decide she didn't care what was bothering the specialist, rolling her eyes before striding away. "Inform Hackett I'll be with him in a minute," Shepard ordered. "Now, get lost."

Outside Shepard's cabin, she took a moment to compose herself. She pinched the bridge of her nose between the pads of her thumb and forefinger. After several seconds of steady breathing, Traynor felt calm enough to address the admiral over her omni-tool. She relayed Shepard's regret at keeping him waiting. In contrast to the commander, Hackett seemed even-tempered. He expressed his understanding that Shepard might be otherwise engaged and told her he could wait. No one, it seemed, had compunctions making concessions for Shepard.

Traynor caught herself wondering if that was part of the reason Shepard behaved like a spoiled rotten child, accustomed to always getting her way. Ungrateful shame washed over her, making her feel miserable.

· x ·

Liara watched as Traynor ghosted through the mess.

It concerned her when the young specialist passed her by without so much as a glance or her typical, kind acknowledgement.

"Samantha?" she called.

Traynor looked up at the sound of her name. She attempted a smile that didn't reach eyes. "Oh. Hi."

Liara stood to pull out the chair next to her for the younger woman. "I was just having some tea. If you have a moment to join me, I would be happy to make another cup. It is peppermint," Liara said, smiling gently.

Traynor sat down and Liara reached over to clear away a myriad of data pads that were scattered across the table. She paused only long enough to squeeze Samantha's shoulder, returning a moment later with a second steaming cup of tea.

"Hit me," Liara said as she settled into her own seat once more.

Samantha looked up, startled. "Pardon me?"

"Did I use the wrong expression? I merely meant you seemed troubled—" Liara's nose wrinkled. She sighed. "I would be pleased to listen if you felt like talking."

"Oh, no, no… you got it right," Traynor said, chuckling. "I'm sorry, apparently I'm distracted. I was just in the commander's quarters." At the mention of Shepard, Liara frowned. "You know, I never realized how completely insulated against sound this ship really is. It's a marvel! I mean, I suppose it would have to be…" Traynor trailed off, noting Liara's darkening confusion. "Er, did you know she plays the drums?"

"Drums?"

"Yeah, it's what human's call percussion instruments. I'm sure the asari have something similar. Anyway, I've never seen a physical set. Normally, the sound is replicated digitally these days. As it would seem, our intrepid leader actually knows how to play."

"This upsets you?"

"What? No. She—I saw—the commander has those scars all over her body, Liara. They're not on her hands, so I thought maybe they were limited to her face. It—it's awful!"

Liara's eyes narrowed briefly as she considered what Traynor was saying. She wondered what opportunity Samantha would have to observe the commander's naked body and felt an irrational, hot flash of jealousy spread across her chest. Her nerves twitched as the heightened state of unexpected negative emotion nearly triggered her biotics.

"Her body is gradually rejecting the Cerberus implants, so it stands to reason that scarring would be widespread," Liara explained, her voice cooling despite her efforts to keep it even.

Samantha immediately picked up on the change and she shifted away from the asari, as though the added distance would give her a better understanding of the sudden shift in Liara's demeanor. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Liara—I'm a bloody cow," Traynor mumbled, as recognition bloomed. A puzzled expression mingled with the faint derision Liara wore. Traynor waved her hand and continued, "It's an expression. Never mind. Look, I wasn't… Shepard and I… oh, this is awkward... I was…" Traynor struggled with the words before finally blurting, "She was stretching and her shirt lifted, that's all."

Liara's unease scattered and she felt a blush wash over her cheeks. "I am sorry, Samantha. I do not know what I was thinking. Shepard and I have been experiencing some… tension lately."

"I'm the one who should apologize."

"I disagree. I over-reacted. I know better—" Liara stopped, her eyes drifting out of focus as her thoughts turned inward. She was ashamed of her jealousy—unaccustomed to the feeling. She felt she could trust Samantha, but was appalled to realize that she didn't yet have complete faith in Shepard.

"Liara?"

She blinked, directing her gaze back to Traynor. "You should stay away from Shepard, Samantha."

"If I didn't think it was already too late, I might be inclined to offer you the same advice."

Liara's bitter laugh filled the mess hall. "Where were you three years ago?"

Taking hold of Liara's hand, Traynor squeezed it gently. "I wish I had known you back then." She grew even more serious. "I don't know what game the two of you are playing, but please promise me you'll be careful."

"It _is_ too late for that promise, Samantha."

· x ·


	14. Chapter 14

Shepard greeted her with a handshake and the kiss of a shotgun.

Dragged to her knees, Shepard pitched forward as long, dagger-like fingers took their time sliding from her partially crushed helmet. Those that held her forearm had to be pried away. Shepard tried, though she couldn't see through the gore smothering her facemask and her slick fingers kept slipping. An unfortunate side-effect of extremely close-range shotgun blasts was that they spread thick, ropey layers of carnage all over the one wielding the weapon.

"Shepard!"

Panic surged, a steady ebb and flow that shifted with her weakening efforts to stave it off. Biting down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood, Shepard twisted and jerked, continuing to attempt to blindly pry herself from the dead creature's grip.

Another eerie scream filled the air causing Shepard's hair follicles to stiffen and lift up from the surface of her skin. A shiver lurched down her spine, facilitating a thought that repeated like a news ticker through her mind: it could have been Liara. The vile estimation of an asari could have been the woman she loved.

The woman she—

_What?_

Shepard briefly wondered what disconcerting, dank hole that thought had crept from, but a gloved hand swiped some of the mess off her mask, distracting her. A blue face peered in, appearing smeared in grotesque sapphire.

Liara knelt next to her, tranquil blue eyes locked on her impossibly wide, panicked red ones. In her head she screamed at Liara to get the fuck away. Her mouth soundlessly formed the words and her wide eyes conveyed the demand, but Liara grabbed her shoulder with one hand and easily freed her from entanglement with the dead banshee. The commander tried pulling away—momentarily unable to separate Liara from the thing that she _could_ become—but the asari held firmly and pressed her facemask against Shepard's.

"Stop." She squeezed her. Hard. "Shepard, stop!"

"I—it was… That _used _to be an asari!"

Liara was the very definition of composure. "Yes. No different from a human husk."

Shepard, distraught over the repulsive asari-thing, couldn't understand why Liara wasn't a quivering mess. _She_ should be the one crumbling.

Liara shot a look over to the ground team, before focusing her concern back on Shepard. Her voice lowered. A hint of authority—a trait Shepard had refused to acknowledge in Liara—strengthened her words. "Focus! You _must_ pull yourself together, Commander!"

Anger scorched broad paths through her and when she fought again for release, she was awarded victory. She pushed up and staggered back, wrenching the helmet from her head. Shepard looked at the deep gouges where the banshee had tried to compress her helmet, skull and all. She slammed it to the ground at Liara's feet. It bounced off Liara's shin guard, leaving a smear of deep purple and blue against pristine white.

Shepard stared at the stain, trembling with futile rage, caught up in a swirl of emotions that had no business bombarding her mind, let alone the battlefield. Focusing on wrath because it embodied comfort, Shepard willed it to smash all the rest.

"Fuck you!" Shepard hissed between clenched teeth, furious to be called out on her weakness. Cradling the shotgun across her chest, she stormed away without noticing Liara's thin, poignant smile.

Shepard fumed as she wove her way across the courtyard to the door leading back into the monastery. Holding her omni-tool up, she cracked into the door's locking mechanism and forced it open. Noticing movement to her right, she levelled her shotgun before stepping behind a pillar to conceal her. She signalled the team to find cover and hold their positions.

An asari ran past, trailed by an unconcerned cannibal. Shepard watched as she turned and threw a weak biotic blast at the creature. The cannibal barely broke its stride, managing to close the distance.

Shepard casually stepped from behind the pillar, ejecting her thermal clip before slipping a new one home. The sound drew the cannibal's attention. As its head swung in her direction, she raised the gun and fired. The thing hit the ground in a writhing pile. Striding over, Shepard lifted her boot and drove it down, crushing the creature's skull beneath her heel. It twitched for a moment longer before stilling completely.

The commander stood ankle deep in cannibal, gauging the asari's reaction. She hesitated, wreathed in rippling biotics. She seemed to conclude that Shepard wasn't an immediate threat. "Thank you. I—"

Shepard held up her hand. She was uninterested in appreciation; her only desire to get out of this godforsaken place. "What happened here?"

"I—" the asari paused, then drew herself to her full height, squaring her shoulders. "The reaper's monsters have been hunting… us."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "You're one of them?"

"My name is Falere."

"I don't give a flying fuck if you're the Goddess Athame herself, that's not what I asked you."

Falere took a step back, her hands balling at her sides. The air became charged with tension. "I am an ardat yakshi, yes."

Shepard caressed the trigger of her shotgun. They stared at one another for a long moment before Shepard inhaled a calming breath. "What do the reapers want?"

Striding angrily over to the corpse of a banshee, Falere gestured. "They are turning us into those, those… things. They don't seem interested in normal asari."

The commander's heartbeat had been hammering in her ears since encountering the first banshee. It slowed significantly as some tension receded from her body. She breathed as though she had been starved for oxygen. The air filling her lungs made her feel lighter.

Liara was safe from that fate at least.

She lifted her foot and shook the gore from it as she strode over to Falere. "Asari High Command seemed convinced that the ardat yakshi had something to do with the reaper invasion of this planet."

"What? We came here so we wouldn't hurt anyone! We _chose_ exile… my sister and I—Oh Goddess, Rila! Please, you have to help me! I saw them drag my sister into the great hall!"

"This isn't a rescue mission."

"Shepard," Liara said in a quiet voice as she came to stand next to her. "Perhaps we could—"

Shepard held up her hand, silencing Liara, but Falere spoke first. "Shepard? Commander Shepard? My mother fought with you against the collectors. You didn't save her either!"

Before anyone could say another word, Falere ran to the balcony railing and gracefully launched herself over it. She sailed down to the level below with the assistance of her biotics. Shepard watched her disappear before turning on Liara, stabbing a furious finger into her breastplate. "Don't you _ever_—"

"For Goddess' sake, Shepard," Liara interrupted, "it wouldn't kill you to show some compassion." She gestured to the patch-work of the human's face. "I _know_ it's killing you not to."

Shepard's features hardened. "Compassion is a weakness I can't afford!" She moved beside the asari and they stood facing opposite directions. Leaning in to whisper to Liara as she passed, Shepard ground out: "If you can't handle the way I do things, Liara, I _will_ leave you on the Normandy."

Liara's response was to bow her head.

Despite her words, heavy regret settled like a mantle on her shoulders, worsened by the thought of Samara. Shepard had respected the justicar. It pained her to think that if Samara hadn't been killed on the collector base, she would have had to kill her in self-defence. Once released from the commander's service, the justicar's code would have demanded Shepard's death.

Clenching a fist, Shepard terminated thoughts of Samara. She shot Liara with a scornful glare before striding off in pursuit of Falere.

· x ·


	15. Chapter 15

Falere banged against the door, her blue fists slowing as she eventually lost heart in the senselessness of it. She leaned forward, breath coming in short, anguished gasps. Shepard did not attempt to comfort the distraught asari.

It should be so easy to feign compassion; a gentle pressure of her hand on the asari's arm, a kind word—anything to ease another's pain. Instead, she raised her hand, looked at the palm where unique flexion lines creased and crossed. Aside from her feet, her hands were the only things unmarred by a landscape of red-orange scar tissue.

As Shepard watched, the skin of her palm began to distend and contract in waves. It crawled. She tilted her head, wondering if she had imagined it. When it happened again, pain accompanied the undulation. She ground her teeth, her jaw ridging outward. The creases of her palm became luminescent.

Gripping her wrist, she spread her fingers as wide as they would go, before curling them in again. The agony speared through her hand as the glow seemed to expand ever brighter. Shepard's pain tolerance was naturally high, but the intensity of it was approaching her threshold. Her knees began to feel rubbery and she almost swooned. Mouth opening to exhale agony, Shepard desperately looked to Liara. The asari was staring past her, totally unaware of her suffering.

Feeling panic creep over her, Shepard looked back to Falere. Steely gray eyes sparkled as a terrible smile slashed the maiden's face. In a voice that was both hers and yet not, the asari asked, "Are you in pain, Commander?"

Fear had stolen Shepard's words; she could do nothing but stare. Falere's hatred burned spectacularly and the commander shivered in terror. Liara was peculiarly ignorant to the situation even though her fellow asari's hostility was blossoming inexorably. In a compromised state, Shepard was fairly certain she could not combat the biotic, however weak her powers may be, without Liara's assistance.

"Commander?"

Her attention shifted back to Falere. Shepard blinked. Falere's malicious grin melted with her face. The human stared in horror as the asari's facade bulged and bubbled, twisting and flowing to rearrange into a caricature of Mordin. Blood leaked out the bottom of his chest plate, splashing into a hot puddle on the floor in front of her. He stretched his hand out to her, cold dead eyes glaring accusingly.

"Wanted to correct mistake. Shot instead—shot by supposed friend. Very little gain. Why, Commander, _why_?"

His question echoed as he began to shrink away. Shepard couldn't watch as his bones snapped—his armour disappearing, skin becoming a puddle of fatty blobs—compacting down to flop into a heap that caused the pool of blood to splatter all over her.

Forgetting her pain, Shepard backed up as the puddle began to bubble. She threw out her arm, catching Liara across the chest. She protectively shoved the asari behind her with all the strength she could muster. Liara moved mechanically, neither saying a word nor reacting to the situation. Shepard risked a glance behind her. Liara stood still, staring into nothingness, entirely unresponsive.

"Muireall?"

Of all the things Shepard had heard in the past couple of hours, the tiny voice that somehow expanded to blanket the entire space was the most terrifying of all. Screwing her eyes shut, the great protector of the universe stumbled forward, falling to her knees, paying homage to the tiny angel.

"Muireall." The child's voice was so accurate. "You promised!"

Forcing courage where none existed, Shepard made herself look. The child watched with wide green eyes. They were not quite as crisp as Shepard's had once been, but they were full of innocence and trust. Strawberry blond hair hung in dirty lumps, framing grimy cherub cheeks. Her little mouth made a perfect moue as she clutched a shabby teddy bear closer to her chest. The child began to rock back and forth, shifting between the balls of her feet and the heels.

"No, no, no!" Shepard sobbed. "I'm sorry, Aislyn. I'm so sorry!"

"It doesn't matter how deep you bury us, we'll still be dead." The girl sniffled. Her gaze flicked to Liara. "You couldn't protect me; you won't be able to protect _her_ either!"

"Aislyn, please…"

The commander reached out to the little one, her dripping red fingers touching the front of the child's filthy nightgown. The blood soiled everything. A terrified, soundless scream destroyed the child's face before she exploded, dispersing the familiar ropey purple-blue gore of a banshee.

Shepard turned her face away, tears of horror and sorrow flooding her cheeks. When she looked up, Liara was staring down at her in condemnation.

· x ·

Liara left the CIC, a data pad that Samantha had given her tucked protectively beneath her arm. She entered the elevator with a slight bounce to her step, grateful to be bringing the commander a modicum of good news. It was late, but Liara guessed Shepard would not mind having her sleep interrupted for the intelligence she carried.

Liara had been unable to sleep because the monastery assignment had been a nightmare. Restless from staring at her monitors, she wandered the decks until she found Traynor at her station at the CIC. The specialist had drawn the graveyard shift. When Liara showed up, Samantha animatedly outlined her newest discovery. It even helped Liara almost forget about the banshees.

She had to admit that they were the most vile, disconcerting things she had seen recently—the antithesis of the beauty that was associated with her species. Yet, somehow she had effortlessly maintained her composure, even as she watched Shepard lose hers. Something had been prized loose in the commander at the sight of the banshees.

Liara had been relieved that the rest of the ground team had also been too spooked to notice their commander falter. It was better they thought Shepard cold and calculating—infallible. By extension, it had been so easy to provoke the human to anger, considering it was generally her first reaction to any situation she couldn't control with her fists. Liara suspected it was how she managed to power through everything, how she _survived_.

Jolting Liara from her thoughts, the door slid open revealing the short hallway that led to Shepard's quarters. She stepped out, letting out a faint squeak of surprise as she came face to face with the commander, who walked stiffly out from beside the elevator. She seemed to have been pacing outside her cabin.

"Shepard!" Liara started, clutching a hand to her chest.

She got a good look at the commander, noticing that her eyes were blazing, red rimmed in crimson. Shepard's cheeks were puffy and glistening. She must have been unable to sleep as well, and was visibly distraught. Liara's heart dropped into her stomach and she felt the desire to comfort the woman. She automatically asked, "Are you all right?"

Any sympathy she had burned away when Shepard scowled at her. "What do you want, T'Soni?"

Liara sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes indignantly. She should have expected Shepard to be curt; after all she had purposely incited this new bout of ire. Expecting it, however, would not have made their tiresome dance any less draining. "Traynor located the flotilla."

Liara could literally see the tension withdraw from the commander as a slow, genuine smile split her cheeks. She was awestruck by Shepard's beauty, amplified a hundredfold by a mere grin. Further to her astonishment, Shepard seemed to forget herself as she reached out and grabbed her hand. She looked down at Shepard's fingers, nearly entwined in hers, and felt a flush of warmth sweep through her.

Though the contact lasted only a moment, Liara knew it was something she would cherish. Shepard quickly came to her senses, but not before squeezing Liara's hand gently. Her fingers slid away and Liara felt slightly bereft, yet absurdly pleased.

"Come on," Shepard said, calling the elevator back.

They stepped into the CIC, shoulder to shoulder. Samantha turned. Shepard wordlessly held up the data pad and nodded to the specialist in a rare gesture of thanks before departing Liara's side to seek Joker on the bridge.

"Uh… did she just smile at me?" Samantha asked in a hushed, disbelieving voice.

"Yes, although I do not recommend telling anyone. They will not believe you."

The specialist laughed. "Fat chance of that, even _I _don't believe it. So, why does finding the missing quarians make Shepard… uhm, capable of smiling?"

"Our friend, Tali'Zorah, has been missing. We presume her to be with the flotilla. The commander has been worried about her."

Traynor looked dubious. Liara understood the sentiment; if she had not witnessed Shepard's affection herself, she would have thought it impossible as well. Shepard had her reasons for softening toward the young quarian and it had taken access to the shadow broker's intelligence to find out why.

"Shepard had a sister," Liara explained, her voice soft as she became lost in thought. "She would have been Tali's age if she had lived."

· x ·


	16. Chapter 16

One hand lazily traced patterns against the wall. Samantha allowed herself to be amused by the amount of concentration required to place one foot precisely in front of the other. She was convinced that if she could walk in a straight line it would mean that she hadn't actually allowed that wily Williams to wheedle her into drinking an over-abundance of alcohol. The Normandy was en route to the flotilla's projected location, so the crew had more down-time than usual. Samantha had quickly learned that 'down-time' was code for 'partaking in libations'.

She had almost reached her destination when she remembered the ultimate test of inebriation. She paused, taking the time to prop herself up against the wall so that she would be less likely to tip over. Sam skinned her lips back to form an incredibly toothy smile, and then proceeded to tap her teeth with a fingernail. The numb sensation confirmed her analysis of her predicament.

"Samantha, _what_ are you doing?"

The specialist fixed her mouth into a proper, albeit somewhat sloppy smile. "Nothing?"

Liara stood before her, hands on hips, twitches at the corners of her mouth betraying her amusement. "You are drunk, Specialist."

"No'm not!"

"Yes, you are." The asari laughed. "I have been watching your antics. You were concentrating far too hard on walking."

"You been watching me?" Sam asked, amusing herself further by noting that proper English was not to be practiced when communication specialists were drunk.

"I watch everyone."

"Y'know's creepy, right?"

Liara gave a careless shrug, even as her shoulders slumped slightly. The vaguely crestfallen movements made Samantha feel like a cad. She didn't like the look that had flitted across the asari's face. It was a pained expression, as though Samantha had somehow wounded her. She wondered if Liara actually worried that people found her a little frightening. To her chagrin, Samantha remembered that she had once counted among them.

She recalled monitoring the mission where Liara had been injured, remembered feeling concerned for the commander and thinking how scary the asari had been. Liara had seemed stiff and proper—certainly not warm, but not unfriendly either. Of course, that had been before Samantha had taken the time to speak to her, to get to know her.

An overwhelming need to correct the unintended wrong took hold of Samantha. "Sorry. 'm sorry. Didn't mean it."

Another chuckle tumbled out of the asari, serving to settle Samantha's guilt slightly, and Liara said, "Sam, it is fine. I am aware that my tendency to observe is disconcerting to most, humans in particular; however, I would be a poor information broker if I was not even aware of the things going on around me." Liara moved toward her, holding out her hand. "Here, let me help you. Where were you going?"

Samantha looked around, unsure of where she even was, startled to find herself almost directly outside of the Liara's stateroom. Her stomach dropped. "I, uhm… was goin'ta sleeping quarters," she lied.

The truth was that Ashley had fed her enough liquid courage that Samantha had been heading to Liara's quarters for a confession, and hopefully, absolution. That had been before she distracted herself. Now that Liara was here, offering assistance, the courage vanished, leaving her to flounder in the less heroic effects of the alcohol. She panicked and slipped down the wall as her legs suddenly became unable to support her.

"All right, hold on." Liara surged forward and wrangled Samantha into an awkward embrace. She pulled the specialist's arm around her own shoulders. She was able to further support the human by putting an arm around her waist.

Instead of taking Samantha across the mess to the crew's sleeping quarters, Liara opted to drag the human the shorter distance to her own stateroom. She deposited Sam in a chair directly across from her monitors, and disappeared out the door before the specialist had a chance to protest.

The asari returned some time later with a tall, cool glass of water and a pouch of powder. She waved the pouch in front of Samantha. "Doctor Chakwas assures me this will prevent you from experiencing a hangover. It is a special blend, from her personal stock."

Samantha took it, unsure why her appreciation chose to manifest itself in the form of a frown. The specialist upended the packet into her mouth, scrunched her face and fought not to choke at the foul taste of its contents. Sam chased it with a huge swig of water, some of which managed to escape her lips to trickle down her chin. She backhanded it away, feeling like a heathen.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

Liara nodded. "You can stay here for a bit. I have some work to do, but I do not mind the company. Do you need any more water?"

Samantha shook her head, which promptly caused the room to spin. She wanted to close her eyes but knew that would only make it worse. Instead, she concentrated on the back of Liara's head as the asari turned her attention to her monitors.

Liara had an unparalleled ability to focus. How she could easily digest and categorize so much obscure information astounded the specialist. She understood being more comfortable with data than with people, but it seemed to Samantha that Liara had been keeping to herself far more often lately. Most likely that could be attributed to the perverse dynamic the asari shared with the commander.

Thinking of Shepard made Samantha twitch in discomfort. She shifted in her seat, reflecting on the episode in the elevator, wondering what had caused her brain to misfire on such an epic scale. The memory was discomfiting; especially considering Traynor was normally more reserved with her affection. Afterward, it had still taken her a while to reconcile her idealized version of Shepard with the _real _woman. The commander was a stunner, even with all the scars, but she had an unforgiveable deportment.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she recalled why she had been heading to see Liara in the first place. She owed Liara an apology. She hoped it would benefit them both. Although the asari seemed reluctant to let her in, Samantha would not give up the effort. If anyone needed a friend, it was Liara, perhaps now more than ever before.

"Liara," Samantha whispered, testing her voice. Chakwas' medication was working wonders. Her head felt marginally less cloudy and the room had thankfully stopped spinning. With luck, her command of the English language would return as well.

The asari did not acknowledge Samantha, so she said again, louder, "Liara, I have something to tell you."

Liara started and turned around. Her blue eyes settled on Samantha, noticing the way the specialist uncomfortably shifted back and forth in her chair. Eventually, the excess of nervous energy vibrating through her forced the human to stand up.

"What is it?"

"I, uhm… lied… earlier. I was on my way to see you. "

"I know."

Samantha stopped fidgeting and narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"I told you I was watching you. You were clearly determined to make your way here. I assumed you would tell me what you had on your mind when you were ready. Be it now, or at a time when you were less inebriated."

"How is it that you always manage to catch me in compromising situations?"

Traynor was pretty sure Liara was being coy when she asked, "What are you referring to?"

"I… uhm… In the elevator with Shepard… it's been bothering me. I didn't know… you and she were… that you… damn it! Liara, what I want to say is that I'm sorry—and—"

"Samantha," Liara approached, gripping her shoulders. "Slow down. Apologies are not necessary. I know what Shepard is like. She can be compelling, but she is far more predatory and dangerous."

"You… saved me from that. From her," Samantha admitted.

"You were actually brought into something Shepard had no business involving you in. I deliberately baited the commander…" Liara trailed off, shaking her head guiltily. "I should have known she would choose to place someone else in the crossfire."

Samantha was ashamed of what she was about to say, but she had to be completely honest with the asari if she wanted true forgiveness. "I would have done whatever she wanted," she quietly conceded. "I was trapped on the Normandy… and frightened. I wasn't thinking clearly and I couldn't see how hazardous the situation was. Mostly I was lonely."

Liara sighed deeply and fell into the chair at her workstation. She vigorously scrubbed her face with her hands before lifting her gaze to meet the human's. "Samantha, Shepard is a destroyer. She has the ability to break everything in her path with little regard for the consequences. I think that makes her our best hope, because in a way it means that she is like the Reapers. The frightening power she wields would repel most, but it draws others."

"When you were injured, Shepard told me that you had seen her darkness. She thinks she ruined you."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Liara caught her breath. "I allowed her to think that. And for a long time I _did_ blame her. It is a regret I carry to this day. It led us here. Now, we are so embroiled in this mess that neither of us can get out."

Samantha crossed the room and crouched in front of Liara, despising the anguish in her tone. The asari was hunched forward in the chair, fingers clutching at her knees. Tears leaked from beneath her delicate blue eyelids. Before Samantha knew what she was doing, she had taken Liara's face between her palms and was wiping the saline away with the pads of her thumbs.

"She doesn't deserve you," Samantha said, far more vehemently than she anticipated.

Liara opened her eyes, offering a watery smile. "You are kind to—"

Sam surprised herself again by stopping Liara with a delicate kiss. While Liara's response was to become completely still, something primitive took over and Sam tried to deepen the kiss. Heart hammering in her chest, it was obvious her brain had not rebooted yet. At first the asari's mouth was unyielding, but then she softened. Sam could feel a different quality to Liara's answering kiss.

Her lips told a story of regret. The kiss felt like an ending to something that could never begin.

Suddenly full of self-loathing, Sam broke away from Liara and propelled herself backward, crab-walking until her back hit the wall. There she drew her knees up to her chest and tried to find something to look at that wasn't the compassionate asari. She shuddered as she mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Liara must have repeated her name several times, because when Sam finally heard her and looked up, the asari was standing over her, wearing a sad smile.

"Thank you," Liara said.

She didn't know what she thought Liara might say, but she had not expected that. It made her feel worse and she couldn't stop herself from beginning to cry. This time she hid her face, forcing Liara to sit down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She tried several times to shrug the asari off, but Liara merely tightened her grip, holding her until she became completely husked.

"_You_ deserve better than what I have to offer," Liara admitted.

Samantha sniffled and kept her face hidden, but she listened.

"Some think I saved Shepard because I loved her. The truth is that I could not abide the thought of the Collectors desecrating her remains after everything she had already been through. Cerberus offered something else entirely and I—I took the chance because I knew the galaxy needed her." Liara stopped to gather her thoughts. She shifted slightly, resting her head on Samantha's shoulder.

"I lost so much of myself in pursuit of her, Samantha, on the off chance that she might once again live. I perspired for her. I cried. I bled. Piece by piece I gave myself to Shepard, and on some level she hates me for it. I did not know what love was before that."

Quiet descended over the cabin. Samantha lifted her head, her gaze resting on Liara's crest. She moved to draw the asari into a hug, the stings of embarrassment and rejection gradually easing. "By loving her, it's like you're learning to love yourself because she holds such a large part of you."

Liara shifted to look at Samantha, eyes shining thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

"I think I understand."

A wilted smile ghosted across Liara's lips. "Someone should."

"Liara, may I ask you something?"

The asari acquiesced with a nod.

"Is Shepard going to kill me now?"

Liara's genuine laugh brightened the room. "She will never learn of this from me."

"Oh thank God! I don't think I would be a fan of evisceration." Samantha disentangled herself from Liara and clambered to her feet. As she held out her hand to help the asari up, she asked, "We're all right?"

"You have given me a gift, Samantha. Something I did not truly appreciate until now—perspective. I would like to be your friend," Liara replied. With a small smile, she added, "And as your friend, I should inform you that you are an exceptional kisser, Specialist. I have no doubt you will eventually steal some lucky girl's heart."

· x ·

_Author's Note: _This chapter is dedicated to ccryder and Midnight Lion, even though I am pretty sure they both hate me now. _*evil laugh* _ And to Sirrocco for being incredibly supportive. Thanks to the small band of heroes who helped me whip this chapter into shape. It wouldn't be what it is without you guys.


	17. Chapter 17

· x ·

Entering the War Room, Shepard's vision closed in on the slight form of the quarian admiral. She could not see beyond that tiny pinprick of clarity amongst a sea of red fury. Han'Gerrel leaned against the console beside Admiral Shala'Raan, poring over the intelligence the Alliance had gathered. He didn't see her approach, but Shepard heard a hush descend over the others at her entrance.

Someone gasped as Shepard grabbed the admiral by the shoulder, tucked her foot behind his boot and pulled backward, tossing him to the ground. He hit the floor hard, a bark of pain exploding out of him.

She knew how she looked. Her armour was battered, scorched in spots, and covered in the silver-white hydraulic fluid of the geth. She had removed her helmet for her vidcom conversation with Admiral Hackett, exposing her furious, scarred face. It all combined to present a terrifying image.

A seasoned military man, Han'Garrel was not easily intimidated. Shepard stood over him, trembling with so much rage that she had to clench her hands. The quarian pushed himself up onto his elbows with every intention of rising.

"You dare?!" he spat.

Shepard let the anger consume her. She dropped to her knees, straddling the admiral. She reached behind her, gripping the hilt of the dagger that he kept concealed in a boot sheath. Freeing the blade, she put one hand on the admiral's mask and shoved him back down. She held him by his shoulder and slapped the flat of the blade against his faceplate.

"You bastard," Shepard breathed. The words fell flat.

"I was within my authority as admiral of the heavy fleet!"

She leaned so close that she could see the reflection of her deadly eyes in his faceplate just before her breath fogged it. "You had the chance to withdraw safely, but you jeopardized your mission and your people." Her voice hardened. "You risked _my_ crew—your own admiral!"

She moved the blade to his throat. She could tell by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that he was concerned, but he chose to remain still and silent. She flicked the blade, slicing the outer layer of his suit. She had to admire his restraint; he did not struggle, but she saw the vague outline of his eyes narrow beneath the faceplate. He lifted his chin, giving her better access to his throat in challenge.

"You're a crazy bitch."

She tensed, every muscle in her body going rigid, ready to plunge the blade home.

"Shepard." A quiet, gentle voice broke through the cloud of wrath. "He's not worth it." A hand was on her shoulder, cautiously, yet insistently, pulling. She allowed Tali to tug her away, feeling the fire leave her body as exhaustion unexpectedly caught up with her.

As she stood, she dropped the blade on the admiral's belly. "Get off my ship!" she hissed before turning away.

· x ·

Tali'Zorah could feel the anxiety thrumming through Shepard. They walked side by side out of the War Room, Shepard moving as though every step was excruciating. She could see the exhaustion in the lines of the commander's face, the set of her jaw, the gauntness of her cheeks. The scars were worse than Tali remembered and she struggled with guilt at being part of the quarians ridiculous bid for their home world while Shepard and the rest of the galaxy struggled against the greatest threat ever known. She and the other admirals were merely compounding Shepard's stress and it was clear to Tali that the human was close to breaking.

She had watched Shepard attack Admiral Han'Gerrel, admiring her for having the guts to do what Tali herself would not. Tali had waited to see how far Shepard would go, but when the human had pressed the blade through the first layer of the admiral's suit, she intervened. No matter what had happened, the admiral did not deserve death for believing his decisions were in his people's best interest.

Tali had known that she could calm Shepard down. Inexplicably, she had always had that kind of effect on the acrimonious woman. She recalled Garrus affectionately teasing her, saying she had become the human's Achilles' heel. Tali's lack of understanding had inevitably led to an explanation of the idiom. Afterward, she'd told Garrus she did not want to represent Shepard's weakness. He had shrugged, and with pensive twitches of his mandibles told Tali it was better than suffering the commander's ire as Liara did.

She and Shepard passed Privates Westmoreland and Campbell and stepped into the CIC, where the commander made a beeline toward the elevator. She indicated that Tali should not follow her and the young quarian momentarily felt at a loss. She wanted to speak to Shepard, to try to find out if there was any way she could offer the human some sort of reassurance.

It had been some time since she had been aboard the Normandy and things had clearly degenerated. She felt disheartened and she'd only been aboard for a couple of hours. She could only imagine that the dreadfulness of the situation would be weighing on everyone involved in the war effort—Shepard more so, as the spearhead.

Watching the doors to the elevator close behind the woman, Tali hung her head and clasped her hands together. She decided she would be of the most use in the War Room and turned to head that way only to nearly run into Liara who was standing next to a lovely brown skinned human female.

"Tali!" Liara smiled, moving forward with her arms spread. As Tali gratefully wrapped Liara in a warm embrace, she felt the asari's body relax.

"I've missed you," Tali admitted.

"We were worried when we were unable locate the flotilla," Liara said, giving her an extra squeeze before stepping back to hold her at arm's length. "Are you well?"

If Liara could have seen her face beneath her mask, she would have noticed the way Tali's mouth turned down and the corners of her eyes crinkled. The asari merely had to look at her own reflection in the faceplate to know the look on Tali's face, though. They all wore it: the drawn out, tired look of one engaged in a futile struggle.

"I'm as well as can be expected," Tali replied, shooting a glance at the elevator. "But I'm worried about Shepard."

Liara's features flashed anguish before she managed to school them. In that instant, Tali sensed that the dynamic between her friend and the commander had shifted significantly. "We all are," Liara replied softly.

She wanted to ask Liara more, but her friend had turned to the woman next to her, gesturing for a data pad the woman held.

"Tali, this is Communication's Specialist Samantha Traynor," Liara said, glancing distractedly down at the data pad.

"I am pleased to meet you, Specialist." Tali gripped Traynor's outstretched hand.

"The pleasure is mine," the woman said. "But if you'll pardon me, I should return to work."

Tali watched the human walk away. "She seems nice."

Liara, who had been perusing the data pad, nodded her head, although she didn't actually seem to have heard Tali. It reminded her of the way Liara had behaved when they'd met again on Illium before Shepard's resurrection: present but unavailable. She felt a familiar sadness sweep over her again.

She recalled the way Liara had relentlessly pursued the whereabouts of Shepard's body after the collector attack on the Normandy. Customary shame surfaced as she remembered her inability to commit herself to helping Liara find the commander. It had been too painful.

"Well, I've got some… things to look into," Tali murmured, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Oh, of course," Liara replied.

Tali watched her for a moment. The asari was intent on her work, so Tali started away, but she turned when Liara called her name.

"I am glad you are here," Liara told her, unexpectedly looking every bit as vulnerable as she had once been on the original Normandy.

"Me too," Tali said, a hesitant smile invisible beneath her mask.

· x ·

Liara jerked once, waking herself. The subtle blue glow of Glyph's orb chased the residue of her dream away. She sighed and rolled on her side, hoping that a change in position might be enough to allow her to ease back to sleep. As she did so, she was startled to realize she was not alone in the room.

Curled on the small sofa next to her bed was Shepard. She had drawn her hood up, much as she had the first time she had visited Liara's room in the dead of night, but the glow of her scars was not completely blotted out. Her knees were bent, heels tucked against the back of the couch. She had her hands crammed beneath her head, acting as a pillow. The position did not look at all comfortable to Liara, but she loathed the idea of waking the commander.

As she watched, Shepard shivered and twitched in her sleep. Liara took pity on her. She sat up and eased herself from the bed as quietly as possible. She pulled the soft blanket Traynor had given her off the end of the bed as she went. She unfurled it and shook it out, tiptoeing over to the sleeping woman and draping it over her.

For a moment, Liara stood motionless, just staring at the commander's relaxed form. She had never seen the human look so at peace. With her eyes closed, her face was unlined, appearing agreeable and free of stress. Liara was mesmerized, completely in awe of the difference between this sleeping beauty and the nightmare that Shepard made of herself when awake.

Without thinking, Liara touched Shepard's silken hair. She only realized what she was doing when Shepard's hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist so hard that Liara's fingers immediately went numb. She hollered in surprise as Shepard surged up, wide red eyes brimming with animosity.

The attack came so quickly that Liara had no choice but to use Shepard's own momentum to break the human's hold on her wrist. Reacting on instinct, she unleashed a disorienting biotic slam. As Shepard was lifted off her feet, Liara realized that the commander was not actually seeing her, but had in fact been caught in the vestiges of a dream. The human crashed hard on Liara's bed, sliding on the sheets until she came to an abrupt halt against the wall.

Liara stood at the foot of her bed, breathing hard and staring at Shepard, waiting for her adrenalized heartbeat to settle down. Furious blood pumped through her veins and she had a hard time settling her anger at Shepard, even though she knew that the woman had not meant to attack her.

The commander sat up, rubbing her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Liara asked, frustrated that she couldn't completely eliminate the annoyance from her tone. When the human didn't answer, she sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Eventually, she said, "You cannot keep doing this."

Shepard's tone was awash with earnest trepidation as she whispered, "Promise me you won't disappear, too."

· x ·


	18. Chapter 18

The commander made herself small, a fiery ball, chin resting atop knees tightly drawn to her chest. Her red eyes glistened in misery.

Liara's temper simmered with the dull throbbing pain in her wrist, conflicting considerably with her desire to comfort Shepard. Unsure of how to deal with her own feelings, her hand hovered above the commander's shoulder. When Shepard's shoulders began to shake with the effort to keep her emotions at bay, Liara felt empathy override the anger. Sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, she rubbed a soothing hand up and down the commander's arm. She was surprised that Shepard didn't immediately shy from the contact.

"I am here," she whispered.

Shepard allowed herself to be pliable, too caught up in memories and grief to fight it. Liara had no illusions that the vulnerability would last.

"Not for long, I'll bet."

"Shepard, I am _not_ going anywhere."

"You didn't promise. Maybe that's good. I promised Aislyn I would keep her safe…"

Liara's hand faltered momentarily, unnoticed by the commander. Shepard had never spoken of her sister. Liara had learned of the girl from her network, but even the broker's files referencing Shepard's time before the Alliance were limited. The human had been living on the streets of an undisclosed city on earth, fending for herself and little Aislyn. Shepard was the only one who knew the mystery behind how the little girl had died. The thought of it made Liara's throat constrict, and her heart pound in her chest.

She couldn't speak. She desperately wanted to. Liara wished there was something she could say; some way of making Shepard understand that it was okay to let others share the burden of grief. Failing miserably at offering the human any form of verbal comfort, Liara shifted her position and gathered Shepard into her embrace. With the absence of words, Liara was determined to show Shepard that not everything had to be met with anger and immovability. Love was also a worthy weapon.

"I've been having terrible nightmares," Shepard softly admitted. Curled in Liara's lap, face pressed into the gentle curve of her neck, the woman shivered. Every breath Shepard took worked to ease her stiff discomfort at physical contact. She slowly relaxed as Liara rubbed her back in gentle, ever-widening circles. The commander's tenuous hold on her composure eventually slipped. Liara felt hot tears touch her neck as Shepard's hands made fists in the material of her oversized sleep shirt.

After some time, Liara felt Shepard catch her breath. The human shifted her position slightly to look thoughtfully up at her. "You could make it all go away," she breathed.

Liara, distracted by the peculiar sensation of having Shepard enfolded in her arms, tilted her head questioningly seconds before she actually managed to process what the commander had said. Her stomach dropped.

"Melding does not work that way, Shepard," she replied. "I would do almost anything to ease your burden, but I cannot do that. I would not, even if I could. You have no idea what you are asking."

"Liara, my sister is always in the back of my mind. I close my eyes and I can feel her, trusting me to protect her—to keep her safe." Shepard buried her face in her hands. "What happened to her—I can't… I can't let it happen to you. I just—all I'm asking for is some sort of peace."

"Then let me find another way to help you." Liara reached up to take Shepard's hands. They were shaking. "You do enough fighting; there is no need to fight me as well."

Shepard's voice was a soft whisper as she said, "I don't know how to do anything else."

Liara directed Shepard's hand to the center of her chest, between her breasts. She held it there with both her own.

"Feel that? I am real and I am here with you. Now. Always." Liara watched Shepard's eyes carefully, waiting for the moment when the human would inevitably close her out, except Shepard showed no intention of retreat.

"You came here for a reason. Do you find comfort in the dark, watching me sleep?" Liara asked.

Shepard nodded, just once, almost imperceptibly. She stared up at Liara, emotions bared, but desperately trying to hide her anxiousness. It seemed as though Shepard still expected her to vanish.

Making another fist in the material of Liara's shirt, Shepard dragged the asari forward until their foreheads touched. She cupped the side of Liara's neck with her free hand, and the asari felt the touch shiver all the way down her spine to wind around and coil low in her belly. She could feel Shepard's soft breath playing over her lips.

"Goddess," Liara exhaled as reason abandoned her completely.

She grasped Shepard's face between her hands and crushed their mouths together.

Fire raced through her, chased by the icy fear that Shepard would withdraw, leaving her desolate and broken once more. She knew the dangerous precipice they stood before, yet she willingly moved forward, hoping that this time the commander wanted to follow.

Shepard did not balk, she met Liara's kiss with unmatched ferocity. The skin beneath Liara's palms heating deliciously with the slightest hint of self-consciousness, the likes of which Shepard had never displayed. It stoked the blaze within Liara, melting the last of her reluctance.

Easing the human back, Liara threw a leg over the commander, straddling her.

Shepard held Liara's gaze. She hadn't demanded that Liara stop, so she grasped the bottom of her shirt and slowly drew it up over her head, revealing an expanse of rich, blue skin, glistening in the vague light. Liara hooked a thumb in the waistband of her regulation underpants, the other resting on her own tummy, watching Shepard's reaction.

The human's gaze travelled slowly over Liara's breasts, across her taut belly, until she noticed the ruined skin that pinched at the asari's side. Sitting up, Shepard reached out to gingerly touch Liara's scar. The minute Shepard's fingers brushed the skin, Liara sucked in a ragged breath. The human immediately snatched her fingers away, a startled expression crashing over her features.

"It no longer hurts," Liara assured her.

Shepard averted her gaze. "I never intend to hurt you."

"This," Liara said, taking Shepard's hand again and placing it against her chest exactly as she had moments ago, "is not about pain."

"Liara—"

She put a finger to Shepard's lips to silence her. "It is about letting go. You asked me to make your nightmares go away. I can—at least for a little while."

Replacing her finger with her lips, Liara leaned into Shepard, pushing her gently down once more. Her hands found the hem of Shepard's N7 hoodie and slipped them beneath, touching the warm skin of Shepard's stomach. Her fingers tripped over the myriad of scars that were splayed over the human's body, and she struggled not to gasp in surprise against Shepard's mouth. She had forgotten that the scars were so widespread.

Shepard tensed as Liara's hands played over the rough texture of her abdomen, no longer familiar with the sensation of intimate touch and very likely ashamed of the state of her body. Hands desperately snatched at the Liara's to still their movement. Searching Shepard's face for some clue how to proceed, Liara noted desire mingling with underlying apprehension. The human seemed torn by conflicting emotions, although it became clear when Shepard made her decision because she took a breath and released her.

Before either of them could lose their nerve, Liara unzipped Shepard's sweatshirt and spread it open, delighted to find that she wore nothing beneath it. She paused to appreciate the sight before her. Shepard's breasts were small and perfectly formed with petite nipples. The patchwork of red glowing scars, while initially jarring, actually gave the commander's body an ethereal exquisiteness that left Liara struggling to catch her breath.

"Goddess, you are beautiful," she breathed, unable to help herself.

The commander hid her expression by turning her face away. Liara leaned forward and grasped her chin, forcing the human to look at her. She saw Shepard's doubt as plain as day. "You are beautiful," Liara repeated before capturing the commander's lips in a surprisingly possessive kiss.

Liara, distracted by the ferocity of her suddenly transparent need, rolled off the commander so that they lay side by side, legs entwined. With one hand splayed out on Shepard's stomach, Liara broke the kiss and ducked her head down to Shepard's nipple. She touched it with the tip of her tongue just to see how the commander would react, fear that the human might yet reject her lingering in the back of her mind. But Shepard moaned and arched her back, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Pleased, Liara closed her lips around it, sucking gently.

"Fuck," Shepard panted.

Smoothing her hand down Shepard's middle, she slipped it beneath the waistband of her pajama pants to feel a small patch of hair over her sex. Her fingers played there, and with a flick of her tongue on Shepard's nipple, Liara looked up at the commander from beneath her lashes. "I do not think I can wait. I have wanted this for too long," she admitted.

Shepard was clearly beyond words. Liara smiled and dipped a finger between the human's delicate folds. Shepard hissed as Liara's finger bypassed the small bundle of nerves after touching it only teasingly. The moisture Liara felt tripped a switch in her brain. She very much wanted to taste Shepard.

Growling in frustration at the obstacle presented by Shepard's pants, Liara withdrew her hand and eased it beneath the small of Shepard's back. Lifting the human slightly, Liara worked the pants down her hips and over Shepard's backside. The commander helped by kicking them off the rest of the way. Covering Shepard's sex with her palm, Liara pressed down gently. The commander suggestively arched her hips, her own impatience surfacing. Shifting down until she had settled between Shepard's legs, Liara paused only long enough to drop two tiny kisses, one on each of the commander's inner thighs.

Liara began by slipping in one slender finger and listening to the way Shepard slowly exhaled her breath. Liara's heartbeat picked up its pace. Sliding it all the way out, Liara added two more fingers and entered her again, stopping just past her first knuckle. She made several short strokes before Shepard began to move her hips, pushing against her, lengthening the penetration.

Curling her fingers slightly upward, to ride against the firm ridges of Shepard's inner walls, Liara bent her head down and touched the tip of her tongue to Shepard's swollen bundle of nerves. Shepard's deep, musky scent was superb, her taste more so.

The commander's breath exploded out of her, and Liara gasped as strong fingers clamped down on the back of her neck. "Jesus fuck, Liara, do it fast and hard!" she ordered.

Applying more pressure with the flat of her tongue, Liara filled Shepard with her fingers; pulled them out only to drive them home again. The sensation of making Shepard lose control was crumbling her own shaky restraint. Compounding the situation, Shepard's fingers had found the erogenous spot at the back of her neck beneath her crest.

Finding those delightful fingers on her neck with her free hand, Liara moved them away. She wanted Shepard to lose herself, and was not interested in reciprocation. Thankfully, Shepard was nearly at her threshold and did not fight her. Liara could tell by the way the commander kept dragging in quick, deep breaths. As she approached climax, small vocalizations of pleasure erupted from Shepard that built to a crescendo where Shepard yelled, her throaty voice resonating. Liara stilled her fingers, feeling Shepard's muscles expand and contract around them. She continued to taste the human with small, teasing licks while Shepard rode out the last waves of pleasure.

Shepard cupped Liara's cheek, and motioned her up. Liara quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and shifted up so that she could lie along the length of the human, one leg tossed over Shepard's. She propped herself up on an elbow, looking down on Shepard, who had thrown a forearm across her eyes.

"Thank you," Shepard whispered.

As Liara smiled, studying Shepard's face, she noticed the newest scar on her chin. She thought it seemed less deep, not as luminescent.

· x ·


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's Note_: I want to thank LogicalPremise and Sirrocco for their invaluable assistance with this chapter. I am disappointed that more people aren't reading their _**astounding**_ work and telling them how absolutely brilliant they are. You are missing out if you are not reading LP's "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken" or S' "Breathless" or anything else they have written. Honestly. Go, read, enjoy. Glacial Fire can wait.

Also… Midnight Lion… where the heck are you hiding? You are missed. And, well, I am impatient for more Pressure! *grin*

* * *

The unbearable weight of a body pressed down on her, disgusting grunts hurt her ears, and rank breath caressed her cheek. The vile, musky scent of sex clung to her every pore. It was the dead of winter and hunger gnawed at Shepard's fourteen year-old belly. The scene shifted until she could feel the small, cold body, cradled in her arms. Hot tears had landed on that little, innocent face, before the dead face seemed to shimmer, twisting into a mockingly sweet, blue-tinted vision of beauty, delicate freckles awash with thick, purplish blood. Piercing, wide blue eyes glared accusingly.

Shepard jerked awake. Completely naked and in an unfamiliar bed, she blinked tears from her eyes and scissored her legs, trying to disentangle herself from the mess of sheets that pooled between them, severely hindering her desperate instinct to escape.

Too many memories clashed in her overcrowded mind. Massive shivers ripped through Shepard. A strangled sob forced its way from her chest, as she worked clear of the sheets and launched herself out of the bed, coming face to face with Liara's holographic assistant.

"Good Morning," it said pleasantly.

Shepard punched through the thing. "Get the fuck out of here!"

It sailed away, but the interruption had broken her terror. Shepard mashed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She fought to steady her shuddering breaths; a monumental task given she was on the verge of hyperventilating. A feeling of shame blanketed her and she dropped to the edge of the bed, unable to stomach her absolutely stunning display of weakness.

She had not felt this vulnerable since her early years on Earth. Bitter anger pooled in her belly as she recalled parts of her childhood: It was harder to steal a decent meal when most street vendors moved their wares indoors. Desperation had driven her to nearly intolerable lengths just for a few credits. Her cut from the Reds had barely paid for one meal a day, and most times Shepard starved herself so that Aislyn would not wake at night, crying and clutching her little tummy, tormented by hunger pains.

Clenching her teeth, Shepard surged to her feet again. She gathered up her jogging pants and angrily stuffed her legs into them, cinching the tie around her middle to keep them up as she stormed around, looking for her hoodie. She found it balled up in the sheets at the bottom of the bed. As she shrugged into it, she caught Liara's heady scent and was unable to stop herself from flushing with heat, which made her all the more angry.

As soon as she was clothed, Shepard marched out of Liara's stateroom. She intended on blasting through the mess and getting back to her own quarters as quickly as possible, but her stride faltered when she looked up.

Everything within her settled into an ominous calm.

Liara sat at a table with Samantha, a chessboard between them, their heads inclined toward one another. Smiles plastered both their faces, gazes flicking from the board to each other and back again. They spoke in hushed tones, every now and then sharing a laugh. Samantha reached across the table and smacked Liara playfully on the shoulder after the asari said something and moved her piece. Shepard felt the calm crack; her hands and feet began tingling.

Tali sat next to them, fiddling with her omni-tool. The quarian was the only one to glance up to see her stalled in the middle of the mess. Tali inclined her head in greeting and the acknowledgment of Shepard's presence unglued the commander's feet and set her in motion once more.

· x ·

Tali had the feeling of being watched. She flicked her omni-tool off and looked up, right into the blazing eyes of the commander. Tali was shocked to discover Shepard emerging from Liara's room, wearing a casual hoodie and a pair of rumpled jogging pants. The human's fiery hair messily framed her expressionless face as she stared at their table; more specifically at Liara and Samantha. She stood stock still; legs spread slightly, hands hanging loosely at her sides.

Seeing the commander unkempt was so jarring that it took Tali a moment to reconcile before she managed to incline her head in greeting. At that, Shepard jerked stiffly into motion; her features twisting briefly into an expression of rage, hands balling into tight fists. Her reaction was so fierce that it made Tali's stomach queasy.

Shepard's gaze flicked once more to Liara before the iron mask slipped over her features. She neared the table and did not acknowledge anyone there except to bark: "Specialist Traynor, I want to see you in my quarters in ten minutes."

And then she was gone.

Tali glanced at Samantha. The specialist was watching Liara as the asari stared after the commander. An expression of stunned sadness and what Tali thought might be jealousy played over Samantha's face, but it was gone the minute it appeared, replaced with her easy smile.

The specialist let out a low whistle. "You _dog,_ you!" She winked at Liara while playfully nudging her arm.

Samantha was making jokes. Tali did not think she would if she had seen the look on the commander's face—what that look could lead to.

Liara understood.

The asari glanced distractedly at Traynor, but didn't speak or offer so much as a smile. Tali watched Samantha's eyebrows furrow as she seemed to finally sense that something was very wrong. Pushing her chair back, the specialist stood and began to pick up the chess pieces.

"Samantha, leave them," Liara managed.

Tali wondered at the strangled tone in Liara's voice. Samantha looked like she was curious about it, too, but she only paused a moment longer, searching Liara's face, before shaking her head. "I have to attend Shepard."

Liara grabbed Samantha's wrist as the specialist reached for the pieces again. Tali watched as Liara struggled; it was obvious that she did not want Samantha to go to Shepard, but could not find a way to prevent it. With one long, miserable look, Liara released her.

Samantha didn't try to hide her confusion. She paused a moment longer, searching Liara's face, before reluctantly offering a weak smile. "I should go."

Liara nodded and watched Samantha disappear. She began to pick up the chess pieces, but her hands were shaking badly. Tali reached across the table to touch Liara's fingers with her own. The asari paused and looked up, large tears brimming in her eyes.

"What is going on, Liara?"

"I might—" Liara's voice broke and it was a moment before she could continue. "I might have made a very big mistake."

Tali felt her heart wrench at the anguish in her friend's words, at the pain spreading over her features. Liara withdrew her hand from Tali and began to wipe the tears from her face. They seemed to come faster with every swipe.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tali asked.

"Shepard… came to me last night… she has been having nightmares…" Liara was struggling to find the words, like the shy maiden she had once been. "Instead of—of offering support and strength when she needed them most, I let my desires—" She shook her head. "Goddess, I am such a fool!"

Liara sucked in a tortured breath and then looked up. "I made love to her, Tali."

Tali was thankful the mask hid her astonished expression. Unfortunately, she couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "Really?"

"Yes… although it is complicated."

"It's always been complicated between the two of you. The last I heard she had made it very clear she had no interest. What has changed?"

"My understanding of her needs, of my own."

Tali scrunched her face. She was sure Liara wasn't being vague on purpose; perhaps she merely needed more time to process what had happened. But Tali's curiosity was piqued by Shepard's reaction to seeing Liara with Traynor, and consequently Liara's protectiveness of the specialist, prompting her to ask her friend about it.

"Shepard must think there is something is between us," Liara said.

Tali tilted her head to the side. "Is there?"

"No!" Liara let out an exasperated breath before attempting to explain how Traynor had become entangled between them. She highlighted baiting Shepard, how it had provoked the commander. Traynor's perceived innocence had made her easy prey. Liara told Tali how she had also prevented Shepard from succeeding with the specialist and how, afterward, they had become friendly. She said that Samantha had experienced a moment of drunken weakness, in which she had kissed Liara.

"Could she have found out about the kiss? Uhm, did you meld with her?"

"N-No! Goddess, no, at this point I think melding would prove very dangerous for me—for both of us."

Tali sat in contemplative silence, allowing Liara to collect her thoughts. She was at a loss for words, unable to figure out just what to say that might make her friend feel better. Sensing that pressing Liara further about their relationship would only make matters worse, she remained a steadfast presence, offering as much comfort in silence as she was capable.

Liara's gaze lost focus, and eventually she buried her face in her hands as her shoulders began to shake.

Tali stood up and went around the table to sit next to Liara. She drew her into an awkward hug. After a few moments, Liara stiffened and straightened in her chair. Her eyes widened and before Tali could ask her what was wrong, Liara shot out of the chair, catching the edge of the chess board and sending the pieces scattering.

"I—I have to go!"

"It's okay, Li. I've got this."

"Thank you," she whispered.

As Liara vanished around the corner, Tali bent down to pick up the light and dark queens from the floor.

· x ·


	20. Chapter 20

Exiting the elevator and stepping into the loft, Traynor swallowed and made a half-hearted attempt at straightening her uniform. The door to Shepard's quarters slid open with a gentle hiss that was quickly drowned out by the rhythmic thump of the bass drum, the rasp of the snare. The small anteroom that led to the commander's quarters was awash in sound, reverberating all around her like an angry heartbeat. Samantha felt the percussion deep in her chest, becoming entranced by its pulsing blows almost against her will. The sudden idea that the music might be the only beauty Shepard had to offer stopped Samantha dead in her tracks, serving to amplify her anxiety.

Seeing the commander leave Liara's quarters in a disheveled state had been like taking a biotic slam directly to the heart. Her chest had constricted nearly to the point of breathlessness. She took only a moment to recover before attempting to tease Liara, letting her easy humour slide over the unexpected ache. But the anxiety had set in when Liara had taken hold of her wrist, eyes darkening with a concern her friend had clearly been unable to articulate.

Nervously pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Samantha moved down the stairs, glancing at the tank to the left, fish swimming placidly in its blue depths. She released her lip only as she came to stand at attention in front of the commander. Shepard's eyes were closed, her mouth set in a furious line. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, stray strands sweeping over her face. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, and trailed in slender rivulets down her neck. The commander's N7 hoodie was only zipped halfway and while she played it shifted and gaped slightly, allowing Samantha glimpses of her marred chest and the soft curve of her breasts.

Feeling her face heat, Samantha dropped her eyes to the bass drum on the floor, watching as it pulsed with every tap of the commander's foot. Shepard's hands skillfully manipulated the beat, weaving accents with the snare, the music ranging wildly. Samantha had no idea how long she stood that way while the woman played, but eventually the air stilled and silence reigned.

It was an awful, echoing silence that sent fearful shivers up Traynor's spine.

"Specialist Traynor," Shepard said.

The commander stood up, stretched languidly, and walked around the set. Something about the way Shepard said her name made Samantha's back straighten further and she snapped off a salute. She couldn't take the blazing intensity of Shepard's gaze, so she stared at the wall above the drums, fighting to keep from trembling. The commander's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing, as she began to move in a slow circle around her.

A chill seemed to settle over the cabin as Shepard completed her inspection. She had stopped in front of Traynor once more, arms folded across her chest. "I want you to tell me something," Shepard said. Her voice was gravelly, her expression hard. It was almost impossible for Samantha to gauge the situation and she felt knots form in her stomach.

"Yes, Ma'am," she said, impressed that her voice managed to convey a calm she didn't feel.

"How long have you been fucking Liara?"

A sudden anger ignited, burning away every other emotion. Samantha struggled to keep her composure. "P-pardon me?" she managed.

"I think you heard me, Specialist. Answer the question."

Through clenched teeth, Sam said, "Permission to speak freely, Ma'am?"

"Denied."

With no other outlet for her anger, while standing at rigid attention in front of the commander, Samantha narrowed her eyes. Her mind was in overdrive, thinking furiously. Liara had promised not to tell Shepard about their kiss. Samantha wanted to believe the asari had kept her promise, even though the very definition of her job meant she sold secrets to the highest bidder. Against rationality, a sliver of doubt wormed its way under Samantha's skin, diffusing some of the anger only to replace it with an uneasy sense of betrayal.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said: "I am not, Ma'am."

"What was that, Specialist? Speak up, I can't hear you."

Traynor picked a blemish on the wall to stare at. "I am not 'fucking' Liara, Ma'am," she said, louder.

"You wish you were, though, don't you?"

Samantha's breath caught in her throat as the anger returned in brutal glory. Her pulse quickened as she clenched her hands, unable to hold herself perfectly rigid any longer. "That's enough," she said, a hard edge to her voice. She took a step back from the commander, then turned on her heel and marched up the steps toward the exit. She realized how dangerous it could be to turn her back on Shepard, but her primary objective had become escape.

She had almost made it to the door when the commander grabbed her around the middle and swung her around so that her back slammed into the fish tank. Samantha couldn't help the stunned grunt that escaped her.

"We're not done here, Specialist. You are not dismissed."

She lifted her chin, trying to keep the tears that had sprung to her eyes at bay. "We _are_ done. I will not allow further denigration," Samantha said, her voice unexpectedly even. "If you have a problem with the way I've conducted my duties I will gladly accept the appropriate punishment, but I will not allow you to abuse me simply because you are a bloody paranoid _cow_!" Traynor's accent grew thicker the more out of control she became. Because she was likely up the creek no matter what she did now, she couldn't resist throwing in a saucy, "_Ma'am._"

Shepard let out a degrading chuckle. "Oooh, so you _are_ feisty after all," she said as she moved closer to Samantha, placing a hand on the specialist's hip and the other on the fish tank, effectively penning her. The glimmer of anger in the commander's eyes seemed to glaze over with amusement. It was the sort of expression that Sam imagined a lion might wear upon discovering a wounded gazelle unable to run. Shepard was so close that Samantha could feel the heat radiating from her—could smell the subtle scent of musky sweat.

The commander leaned in, but Samantha turned her face away. "What are you doing?" she asked, voice shaking as panic crawled slowly up from the base of her spine.

Shepard moved her hand from Samantha's hip to grasp her chin and force the specialist to look at her. "What happened to your offer to allow me to take something for myself?"

Shame burned her cheeks. "That was before."

"Before _what_, Specialist?"

Samantha jerked her chin out of Shepard's grasp and stared coldly at the commander. They were locked in a silent test of wills which would likely land the specialist in the brig. Regardless, Samantha broke first and bitterly replied: "Before I realized that you were right—that I don't deserve to be treated this way."

Shepard scoffed. "You're reneging on your offer?" She traced a finger over Samantha's set jaw, down her delicate throat. The specialist could feel the beginning of a slow burn at Shepard's touch, and was angered further by the blatant betrayal of her body. She had obviously been lonely for too long—or perhaps she, like everyone else, needed affirmation that she was still alive. She felt sick that a single, lingering touch could so completely unbalance her.

"Liara is my friend, Shepard. She _loves _you. You have to stop this," she stammered, in an attempt to recover some shred of dignity. Despite her request, Shepard leaned in once more, forcing Samantha to close her eyes, as she turned her face away again. "Please don't," she begged.

"Samantha," Shepard's voice was husky, and manipulative. "Look at me."

Sam opened her eyes, but instead of looking at Shepard, she saw the door of the commander's quarters slowly draw open. Liara stood out in the hallway a look of sheer anxiety on her face, which quickly crumbled as she observed the scene before her.

Liara blinked once, her face becoming entirely expressionless. The air crackled as her biotics snapped into existence. Blue flames licked over her body, rippling and shivering. The asari took a solitary step into the room, allowing the door to close. Samantha watched Liara's biotics become stronger as anger consumed her, until the glow turned to a hot white.

Liara slowly stalked across the room, her presence seeming to suck the remaining air out. She grabbed Shepard by the throat, using the dark energy to help lift the woman. The commander struggled in the slender asari's grasp, both hands gripping Liara's wrist. Her feet were dangling in the air, eyes wild with an emotion Traynor could not place.

For a moment, Liara considered her lover as she held her aloft. Traynor made a faint sound, and Liara turned her dangerous gaze in her direction. The asari's eyes blazed with anger and raw power. Liara waved her free hand dismissively, before slowly blinking again. Her eyes suddenly blackened to the deepest pitch, and she returned her focus to Shepard. As Sam stumbled for the door, she heard Liara speak of eternity in a flat, emotionless tone.

Samantha realized she had never seen something so terrible, and yet so achingly beautiful.

· x ·

_Author's Note_: I wanted to thank everyone for continuing to be so supportive. Thanks for reading, and very special thanks to those of you who have graciously taken the time to leave reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!


	21. Chapter 21

Shepard opens her eyes. At first there is nothing but a deep, inky blackness. Her pupils dilate and contract, trying to adjust despite the total absence of light. She feels a thick pressure against her throat. It is uncomfortable, yet not entirely unbearable. She experiences a sensation of weightlessness. Her legs feel as though they are dangling, her feet swinging, but she can feel some sort of solid surface beneath them.

Confused panic crawls out of nowhere, claws its way into her chest. Shepard battles it; fighting back a scream.

And then a pinpoint of crimson opens in the distance, blinding her with its unexpected intensity. She uses a hand to shade her eyes as it spreads across the horizon, until a figure blots out its origin. The light halos around the form, greatly diminished. Even at this distance she can tell it is Liara, although she cannot see anything but a shadowy profile, appearing limned with blood.

Shadows dance with the light, tickling Shepard's consciousness. There is no cohesion, but it feels like vague memories—the whisper of a dozen influences from a single source.

Liara's voice is a booming whisper that echoes against the darkness. It is anguished and cold. It is tolerant and loving. It is _furious_. "I begged you," Liara hisses. Shepard has to cover her ears. It is painful to hear Liara everywhere around her—and inside her.

"_What the fuck_?" Shepard breathes, waiting a beat before uncovering her ears. She cannot help the rising ire. It is a base coping mechanism, against helplessness and terror, which is almost as natural as breathing. Often, it is all that has kept her alive. Liara seems to arouse it with ease. Shepard has never wondered why she instinctively tries to protect herself from the asari—until now. She may be beginning to understand.

"This place…" Liara speaks again, this time her voice is less painful, coming from directly behind Shepard. The commander whirls around, peering into the gloom behind her. Liara steps forward, spreading her arms and looking around. "I have shielded my mind against our… volatility."

Shepard touches her throat, remembering. Liara is angry. Liara has never, _ever_ been this angry. Shepard convinces herself that she is not afraid, clenches her fist and hardens her tone. "Release me. _Now._" Her voice is dangerous—almost as treacherous as Liara's.

"We are unbalanced; consistently in conflict."

Shepard is silent. She stares at Liara, fighting against the vulnerability that cramps the back of her mind. Liara can flay her open, peel back the layers and expose the rotten corruption within. Nothing, nothing has ever scared Shepard this badly before.

A deep, reverberating thunder sounds. The pain of it drives Shepard to her knees. She looks frantically around, but Liara has disappeared again. In her periphery, the commander catches a glimpse of jagged, murky green lightning. It strikes an invisible wall and hisses angrily before dissipating into futility. The energy lashes out once more; yet again the tendrils are prevented from reaching Shepard.

"Liara!" she screams.

"You have never known true powerlessness." Liara's disembodied voice is so controlled—so frigid. "Until now."

"Let me go. Right_ the fuck _now." Shepard demands through clenched teeth.

"Do not speak!" Liara commands. The pressure against Shepard's throat suddenly builds in force. Shepard's hands go to her neck, anxiously trying to relieve it, and she coughs, gasping and fighting for air. "_Feel_," Liara hisses.

The red light flashes again, becoming an intense presence, washing over her. Shepard screws her eyes shut. If she had not already been on her knees, the crushing weight of it would have brought her down. She tries to hold herself up, by pressing her palms against the unseen floor, as foreign emotions envelop and overpower her own: rage coalescing into jealousy, before easing into acceptance and unconditional love. Tears press against her eyelids, squeezing out to leak down her cheeks. She's never experienced anything like this. Her body ignites into a confusion of sensations, the most familiar of which is the lust that has always been a bedfellow of danger for Shepard.

She can no longer hold herself up and collapses under the pressure. She doesn't even have the power to curl into a ball to protect against the onslaught of feeling. "Stop. _Enough!_" she begs in a tortured whisper. The light disappears, plunging Shepard into total darkness again. She struggles to take a breath. She is grateful that her throat is no longer constricted. Her voice is so low that she doubts Liara can hear her when she says, "_Everybody_ leaves me. I… thought you had left me to my nightmares—for _her_."

"I think I have earned more respect than that, Muireall."

Shepard shivers at Liara's use of her first name. She nods, her cheek mashed into the cold blackness. It is a welcome reprieve from the rampant inferno surging through her. "I keep making mistakes."

A soft breeze lifts Shepard's hair, feeling like fingers running through it. Liara sounds so close when she speaks again. "This is as much my fault as yours." She can feel the soft press of Liara's lips on her cheek, although she knows the asari is not near. "It would appear that I am not immune to jealousy," Liara says, a small amount of amusement flavoring her words.

There is a passive quiet for some time before Liara eventually says, "I would like you to do something for me, Shepard." Shepard waits for Liara to make her request, wondering if it will actually be something she can grant. "I… have so few friends." Liara sounds miserable and more of Shepard breaks, crumbling away to dust. She doesn't want to cause Liara pain. She doesn't know how to avoid it. "Will you please leave Traynor alone?"

Shepard swallows. Liara must be aware of the damage Shepard has already caused. She is not sure that Traynor will be gracious enough to accept _another_ apology. And she cannot send the young woman away from the CIC…

She doesn't answer right away. Shepard is afraid to make promises she cannot keep. Liara lets out a tiny sigh of resignation. She had once said she did not wish for Shepard to be anything other than herself. The asari's acceptance of her is so complete that she is even willing to forgive Shepard for refusing to give her the only thing she has ever requested. The realization drives another agonizing splinter of self-loathing into Shepard's heart.

"Shepard, there is something else…"

"What is it?" she asks, her hopes soaring. Perhaps this time she will be able to do as Liara wishes. Perhaps this time she could take a tiny step towards making things right between them.

Shepard feels soft warmth against her eyelids. She opens them, blinking rapidly to clear the tears. She weakly pushes herself up into a sit. Glancing over to her right, she can see the space is illuminated again. The source is a tall, ornate lamp, spilling mellow white light like an aura over a figure seated in a sturdy wooden chair.

The figure is Liara. She is almost entirely naked save for white lingerie with blue accents that looks suspiciously like her light armour. Her slender ankles are tied to the legs of the chair. Shepard cannot see her hands, as they are stretched behind her, but she suspects they are tied at the wrists. A thick braided cord is stuffed into Liara's mouth, encircling her head, fastened just beneath her crest at the back.

Obscured by the rope is the barest hint of a smile. Liara stares at her with expansive, fevered blue eyes.

"_What is this_?" Shepard breathes.

Although Liara cannot speak, Shepard clearly hears her voice. "It is our balance."

· x ·

_Author's Note:_ *hides behind rock* If you're going to hurt me, please be gentle!

Thanks once more go to LogicalPremise for his valuable input. These latest chapters would not be what they are without his help!


	22. Chapter 22

Samantha Traynor burned. She couldn't recall ever being this furious before. She fairly trembled with it; her cheeks suffused a bright, cherry red that stood out against her caramel complexion. Her hands were balled into tight fists, fingernails digging painfully into her palms, and she hid them behind her back so that no one could see how pale her knuckles had become. She walked stiffly, with purpose. People who would normally greet her with a friendly hello took one look at her face and stepped to the side with the merest nods of acknowledgement, sensing her instability.

She had been trembling since earlier that morning when she left Shepard's cabin. Her shift didn't start until that afternoon and she had gone back to the mess to try to salvage the remnants of her morning. The longer she sat at the table alone, staring at her fingertips, the worse she began to feel. Traynor had at first felt used. Abused. She still felt unbalanced, could feel the lingering effects of Shepard's touch—the need and confusion swirling within her. But the more she thought about it, tried to rationalize it, the more a thin needle of Liara's betrayal penetrated her heart. The wound would begin to fester if she let it.

She had no intention of letting it.

The hunt for her 'friend' had led her to the shuttle bay.

"Ah, now that's perfection. Come on, spread your legs for me, Mi'ja." James' playful tone reached Samantha as she stepped off the elevator.

His broad back came into view as Traynor stormed further into the shuttle bay. The lieutenant knelt before Liara, adjusting the straps of her left greave. For her part, Liara was leaning back against his workbench looking bored. She managed to roll her eyes and smack his shoulder as he made another lascivious comment.

At any other time, Traynor might have been brought up short by the sight of Liara in her skin-tight compression shirt and under-armour leggings—might even have been envious of James' proximity to her, but it seemed nothing could penetrate through the seething layer of betrayal.

"Pardon me, Lieutenant," Traynor said, coming to stop just behind Vega. She was surprised at how even her tone was. Liara, however, seemed to detect a subtle undertone. Her eyes snapped up to meet Samantha's. Traynor ignored her as she turned to James, who had climbed to his feet. "I need a moment with Liara, if you wouldn't mind," she said, as politely as she could manage.

The big man grinned. "Sure, chica. But I gotta finish fitting her new armour, so you're gonna have to make it quick. Although…" His smile spread wider. "…if you're as good at dressing women as I fantasize you are at _undressing_ them, I suppose you could help her into it and I'll check the fit after."

Traynor didn't think her face could get any hotter. In spite of herself, a small smile crept over her features. "You're a pig, James," she mumbled.

He laughed. "A guy has to think about something other than death and destruction, si?"

"Oh, go on," Traynor said.

"I'll be over there with Esteban, thinking about the two of you, you know…" James said with a wink, spreading his arms and backing away. Traynor dismissed him with an exaggerated sigh before turning her attention to Liara; or rather to Liara's armour.

"Samantha…"

Traynor's jaw clenched once more as she picked up Liara's other greave and knelt down. She had learned to assist with armour in order to round out her abilities, her usefulness, as a support tech. She fit the front section over Liara's shin, and then put the back on before snapping the clasps shut. She worked silently, fitting pieces of the hardsuit over the leggings. She was careful not to look at Liara's face, trying to control her anger and carefully frame what she wanted to say. Eventually, she stood up and grabbed the breastplate from the bench.

She took a deep breath and stared at the plate in her hands, noting the matte gray finish with reddish- brown accents. "I'm glad to see you've finally invested in a hardsuit," she said. "The husks will have a tougher time chewing through this. That is, provided you're not trying to get yourself killed on purpose." She turned the plate over, flicking one of the buckles with her finger. Liara put a hand on her forearm, but Sam shrugged her off, more violently than she intended. "Don't. Just—don't."

"Samantha, please."

Her fingers tightened on the breastplate. "I thought I could trust you!" she hissed. Liara stiffened at the sheer vehemence lacing Traynor's words. "You know _why_ the commander pulled me into her cabin? She thinks we're fucking. Why would she think that? What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. You _know_ there was nothing _to_ tell."

Still seething, Samantha ordered Liara to lift her arms. As the asari complied, the specialist carefully hefted the plate and positioned it over her chest. She indicated that Liara should hold it in place and then, placing a hand on her waist, she turned the asari away. Liara's warmth nearly scorched her fingertips. She quickly snatched her hand back, picking up the large back-plate.

For a moment the only sound was the harsh snap of buckles as Samantha attached the piece. "That's an issue," the specialist eventually said.

Liara lifted her hand to the shoulder clasp, turning her head to try to look at it. "Is the clip not functioning properly?" She fiddled with the fixture for a moment before Samantha stilled her fingers by grasping her hand and drawing it away.

"Stop. That's not what I was talking about." Samantha watched Liara. "Do you have any idea what Shepard—?"

"I saw enough." A purplish colour crept high on Liara's cheekbones and her eyes were suddenly ablaze. "Do you have any idea what _you_ were doing?"

Samantha dropped Liara's hand. They stared at one another.

"You… think what happened… was my fault?" Samantha's voice trembled with incredulity.

Liara's eyes narrowed. "I have warned you time and again about Shepard, Samantha. At what point do you begin to take responsibility for your own actions?"

"You can't be serious," Traynor snapped.

Liara seemed to visibly deflate. She turned around and pressed both palms into Vega's workbench. The rigidity of the chest plate held her shoulders square, but Traynor imagined they would have slumped forward otherwise. Liara heaved an enormous sigh, her head hanging as she closed her eyes. "I am sorry, Samantha. I am exhausted and it has already been a long morning." She shook her head, opening her eyes to regard Samantha. "I swear to you, I did not tell her about the kiss."

Samantha's fury died, the vacancy filling with a sinking feeling of hollowness. The emotional whiplash was staggering. The anger, she realized, had simmered on the surface because Shepard had accused her of a crime that hadn't been committed—a crime that she desperately _wanted_ to commit. Had it been written so clearly on her face, and in her body language, that Shepard had simply _known_, even when she herself hadn't been able to fully admit it?

Liara had said there was nothing to tell.

_And that was the problem._

"I don't think I can do this," Sam mumbled. She took a tiny step backward.

The asari turned toward her, straightening with regained composure. Being half-clad in armour highlighted Liara's curves, and yet she still looked formidable. She was alluring and… _magnificent_. But the questioning look in Liara's eyes made her flinch. "Do what?"

"I don't—I can't be _just _your friend, Liara." The way Liara's face cleared of emotion broke Samantha's heart, and yet that didn't stop her from whispering, "I'm sorry," and walking away.

· x ·

_Author's Note:_ Sorry for the delay in updating. I had a bit of writer's block to contend with. Also, I was struggling with a decision regarding what comes next, so I have merely been avoiding the story.

_*sigh*_

This chapter is for ML, subverter, and ccryder, who seem to have disappeared back to RL. I wish you luck, guys! To LP and Sirrocco for their unending support.


	23. Chapter 23

Liara tried desperately to catch her breath. It turned out to be quite difficult and when she looked down, she realized why. The chest plate of her new hardsuit had been dented inward. The paint was missing at the point of impact; it was singed and curled around the edges as it burst outward from the origin.

She had little time to contemplate the implication as Shepard, running ahead of the squad, looked over her shoulder and barked, "Get a fucking move on, people!"

Although it pained her to breathe, which slowed her down, Liara pushed herself to keep running. She focused on a geth that managed to find its legs after Shepard ran past. James lapped Liara, clotheslining the synthetic on his way by, sending it crashing back to the ground.

Liara paused long enough to shoot it, and allow Tali to catch up. The quarian seemed to have injured her leg and one arm hung limply against her side. Liara wrapped an arm around her waist for support during the remainder of their mad dash to the geth drop ship that Legion had acquired.

At the door, James held out his hands and Liara used a touch of biotics to lift her weakened friend up. Fighting the urge to cover her head as the mighty reaper trumpeted again, Liara placed both palms on the doorframe and vaulted into the shuttle. They were moving before James could slam the door shut.

James helped Tali into a seat and strapped her in. The little quarian turned her head away and began to wring her hands as she often did when she was nervous. Liara wanted to speak to her, but she had more pressing concerns.

The lieutenant turned around and was startled as he got a good look at her. "Jesus, Blue. Good thing you were wearing your new hardsuit."

Liara's hand shook as she tugged at the buckle on her shoulder and her fingers fumbled. Panic began to set in and she twisted back and forth, frantically clawing at the fixtures.

"Hey, hey." James caught her by the shoulders and gently shook her. "Let me help you. You're going to be fine." He quickly unbuckled the plate and pulled it off, chucking it down on a nearby seat.

Finally able to take a deep breath, Liara hissed in pain. She would be purple and black with bruises, but she was relatively certain she hadn't suffered any internal injuries. Feeling slightly off balance, wearing her thin compression undershirt and encumbered by the rest of the armour, Liara took hold of a grab-handle.

She watched as James exhaustedly threw himself into a seat. He leaned his head back, and crossed his arms. He looked to be at ease, but Liara could tell by the way his chest expanded at precise intervals that he was probably counting out the seconds in his mind, using a breathing technique to stave off whatever ghosts haunted him post combat.

"Got something I wanna ask ya, Blue," James said after a little while. He opened his eyes and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Liara shrugged. "What is it, James?"

"Do you think Specialist Traynor is all right?"

Looking away, a knot of guilt burrowing into her belly, Liara nodded. "I think this war is tearing us all apart. But she will be fine. Why?"

James smiled sadly. "I've always had a big soft spot for people who are hurting. Think about it: she was ripped away from her home and thrown into the war. No, not just into the war… into the _middle_ of the damned war."

"Do you think she would have been safer on Earth?"

He bowed his head. "No. No, I guess not. I just… she's so sweet. And she seems to like you… will you just… will you keep an eye out for her? Keep her as safe as you can?"

A feeling of trepidation overwhelmed her. She wondered what James would say if he knew that perhaps Samantha was in more danger from associating with Liara. That perhaps the specialist actually needed protection from Liara and all the consequences her friendship carried. Or maybe the intelligent marine could already tell and that was what he was cleverly suggesting.

Before she could answer, however, the little ship listed drastically starboard. It took all of Liara's remaining strength to hold the handle to keep from spilling to the floor. She could feel the vessel's deceleration, something that one had to be paying attention to in order to notice. Lifting her eyes to James, she could see that he was alarmed as well. They hadn't crashed, so they had to be stopping for a reason. The lieutenant stood up and went to the door, but it wouldn't open when he pulled.

"Shit," he swore, then keyed his comms link. "Legion, what is going on?"

The geth's answer came through as the ship resumed motion. "Shepard Commander wishes to engage the reaper." James and Liara exchanged confused glances. "Alone," Legion finished.

"That crazy bitch," James whispered, his voice tinged with awe.

Liara's legs refused to hold her up and she dropped into a seat.

· x ·

Shepard removed her glove and wiped a trail of blood away from her lip. She sat on top of a scorched rock, watching heat waves rise from the deep troughs the reaper had gouged with its beam of molten metal.

Despite its war-marred surface, Rannoch really was a beautiful planet. Shepard would be honored to hand it to the quarians when all was said and done—provided everything went as planned. If she could make one thing right, she hoped it would be giving Tali her home planet back.

She looked away from the hazy heat patterns and spotted Liara standing some distance away, her hands on her hips, surveying the enormous reaper. The chest plate of her armour was missing and she looked bizarre with bulky arms and legs, and nothing attached to the guard braces of her hardsuit. Shepard could tell by looking at her that Liara was tight with tension.

"T'Soni!" she hollered. When the asari turned around at the summons, her eyes darkened. She walked slowly over. Shepard patted the rock. Liara took a seat, not beside her but behind her so they were back to back.

"I have a question," Shepard said. She heard Liara shift on the rock.

"Ask."

"In the meld you were bound and gagged—do you need this to be fucking kinky? Is that what you want? For me to rip your clothes off, bind you to a goddamned chair, and fuck you until you can't see straight? What was that really all about?"

There was a long pause before Liara's tired voice said, "For Goddess' sake, Shepard. Can we discuss this at a more appropriate time?"

Shepard snorted derisively. "Why can't you ever just answer a damned question?" She shook her head, softening her tone. "I just… I need to know, all right? I want to understand."

She heard Liara take a deep breath through her nose, thought she heard a suppressed groan of pain, before the asari answered. "I told you: balance."

"But how? How does that balance anything?"

Another groan escaped Liara, louder, accompanied by a sigh that Shepard couldn't interpret without seeing her face. "I took your power. I suspect your... thing with Traynor was a desperate attempt to take it back. I had to find a way to equalize us."

Shepard stiffened. The bluntness of those words made her ache. Liara had crippled herself, figuratively and mentally, so that Shepard would feel in control again. A swirl of unfamiliar emotions roiled within her, all vying for their own chance to break the surface, momentarily stunning her into silence.

"Shepard?"

In the distance, Shepard saw Admiral Han'Gerrel approaching with a small host of quarian marines. Thankful for the interruption, she shoved herself to her feet, wiped her mouth again and stiffly said, "I'm going to need your help."

After detailing her plan to Liara and securing her assistance, Shepard located Legion. Just as she approached him, her communication unit crackled and the voice of one of the quarian admirals assaulted her ear. "You did it, Commander! The geth fleet has stopped firing, they are _completely_ vulnerable!"

Legion held out his hand, asking if the geth deserved death because they had chosen to defend themselves. Tali approached as well, standing behind Shepard, slightly off to the right. She turned her head and saw that the quarian had assumed a defensive posture, one hip cocked and her arms folded across her chest. She stared at Legion and Shepard could feel the waves of tension emanating from the young quarian.

"We could upload our upgrades to all geth without sacrificing their independence," Legion said.

Tali sputtered, but Shepard held up her hand. "You've been used _twice_ by the reapers. There is very little reason to trust you. The quarians are poised to destroy every last geth unit. On my say so, your existence becomes a memory that will fade with time." Shepard took a deep breath and walked to the edge of the plateau, looking down at the destroyed reaper. "If you won't compromise on the reaper code, why should I ask the quarians to compromise?"

Legion moved to stand to her left. "It would be illogical for the quarians to pursue hostility after the upgrade, Shepard Commander. They would not be able to overpower us."

Shepard shook her head. "That's my point, Legion. Sometimes it's not about winning, it's about how you die." She turned and pointed to Admiral Han'Gerrel's company as Liara spoke animatedly with them. "They would rather die than cooperate because they are scared and hateful. They believe in their righteousness. The rest of the galaxy is caught in the fucking middle."

"Each geth would be a true intelligence, Shepard Commander. We would be individuals. We could help you."

Tali burst forward, roughly grabbing Shepard's arm and turning her. She hissed, "Shepard you can't choose the geth over my people!"

Legion turned toward Tali, his voice unit modulated to a softer tone, expressing regret. "Do you remember the question that caused the creators to attack us, Tali'Zorah? _'Does this unit have a soul?'_"

Shepard glanced back at Liara, feeling the sting of the asari's words more acutely. Liara was bargaining with her very soul to be with Shepard. How could she expect the geth to do the same? She felt her heart breaking as she jerked her arm out of Tali's grip, putting a hand on the butt of her pistol. "Do it. Upload the code."

She hoped Liara would succeed with the quarian admirals.

· x ·

Liara bristled. It was hard to feel badass while missing half her armour, but one thing that becoming an information broker had taught her was how to seem far larger and more menacing than she really was. She squared her shoulders and took a step forward, standing nose to mask with Han'Gerrel.

"You have strengthened the reapers by inciting this ridiculous war!" she barked.

"Who are you to judge us? Your people turned a blind eye to our plight, refused to help us. The council turned us into a fleet of shunned nomads. None of this would have happened if we'd been given assistance when all of this began!"

Liara shoved him. Her biotics flared as the quarian marines trained their weapons on her; fifteen dots of laser-enhanced targeting beams dancing over her unprotected chest. Her eyes darkened to a bottomless blue as she lost control, fury consuming her. "You could have made peace with your creations. Instead you slaughtered millions!"

"They took our home world."

"You narrow-minded idiot!" Liara screamed, spittle flying from her mouth, spattering his mask. "You will not _have_ a home world if you do not give up this farce and join us in our battle against the reapers! Do you think they will leave Rannoch alone? They know what has happened here." She swept a hand in the direction of the crashed reaper. "They have been hiding, gathering data. They will come back for you! Especially now that their spy has been destroyed."

Some of the red dots dropped away from her chest. Others quivered uncertainly. Han'Gerrel made a motion with his hand and the marines lowered their weapons. But Liara was just hitting her stride, any filters she might have had disappeared. If she was unsuccessful at convincing Gerrel to back off, Shepard's gambit would fail and either the geth or the quarians would meet their demise.

"You sent underage quarians on Pilgramage—to die—because they supported peace with the geth, Admiral," she hissed. As his posture changed to evidence his surprise, she grinned maliciously. "Do you know who I am? Because I know _everything_, all of the dirty little secrets your admiralty board wants to keep hidden away. How do you think the galactic community would react if they knew that—"

"Enough!" Gerrel's voice betrayed his rage, but he activated the comm link. "This is Admiral Han'Gerrel. All units: break off your attack."

Just as Liara took a breath of relief, she heard Shepard scream her name. It was the most anguished, terrified sound she had ever heard the commander make. Her heart began to beat furiously as she looked frantically around for Shepard.

At last she spotted the commander. Shepard was running toward Tali, who stood with her back to the edge of the cliff. The quarian had removed her mask and her arms were spread. Liara's legs began to move of their own volition.

Tali's mask clattered to the ground.

Time and motion seemed to slow as she watched Tali pitch backward off the cliff. Shepard reached the edge moments too late. The commander didn't slow, instead her body arched gracefully as she dove off the precipice after the quarian.

· x ·


	24. Chapter 24

James Vega was distracted. The heat rising from the scores in the earth warmed him even through the environmental protection built into his hardsuit, making sweat trickle slowly down his back. His cheek twitched as he thought about what the commander had just accomplished. The woman had brazenly challenged a full-sized reaper with nothing but a targeting laser. He had called her a crazy bitch. The truth was sometimes he doubted he would have the limitless strength she seemed to be able to draw from in order to do what needed to be done.

He stared at the massive, dead oculus of the reaper, lost in thought.

James had been forced to make a difficult decision once and it had cost him the entire colony of Fehl Prime, his fellow marines—his friends. He lived under the weight of that sacrifice and it was crushing. Shepard routinely made decisions that would completely debilitate a less formidable person. He could understand the damage that sort of responsibility would do to a person's psyche. He had an enormous amount of respect for her. Despite that, Shepard's personality made her very difficult to identify with.

As one of her guards during her internment, James paid close attention to Shepard, curious to see what defined such a renowned character. What he discovered disturbed him. He had attempted to engage the woman, but the more he tried, the more closed off and cold she became. Beyond the superficial teasing and light conversation that he suspected she participated in out of sheer boredom, the commander was vastly indifferent to being incarcerated.

The only person who had ever had any sort of effect at all on the woman was—

"Liara!"

James' head snapped up at the sound of the commander's voice. The petrified tone sent a shiver up his spine and he stiffened momentarily, almost afraid to discover what the hell would put that kind of terror into Shepard if a _goddamned reaper_ couldn't.

He had seen some loco things in his career, but seeing Shepard dive gracefully over the edge of a cliff after the quarian would have taken the prize—if T'Soni hadn't drawn his attention. The sight of her covering the plateau in a biotically enhanced rush made his jaw involuntarily drop. He thought he had been awed by her abilities before, but this was singularly spectacular.

The asari was lit up like a star, waves of blue biotic energy so strong that they appeared nearly white, rippling over her. It snapped and fizzled in the air around her, leaving an electrifying tail in her wake, like a comet blazing across the sky. Normally, he dwarfed the diminutive alien, but her demeanor made her seem twice as big and ten times more powerful than usual. Her lips were skinned back from her teeth in a grimace created by the intense draw on her abilities.

He knew, from countless conversations with other biotics, the danger the doctor faced by putting such an enormous strain on herself. She had to have already exhausted herself during the fight with the geth, and her body would begin a systematic shutdown if she tapped much deeper into her reserves. She could suffer anything from sterility to organ dysfunction, or worse.

As he watched, he realized that T'Soni was not paying attention to her proximity to the edge of the cliff. She lifted her arms and her back arched as she ran, the biotic power coalescing and shifting up her body, almost seeming to lift her off her feet, to channel outward from her curled fists. He began to run as well, hoping his timing and trajectory would be close.

T'Soni reached the edge of the cliff a mere second before he did, but James managed to wrap a muscled arm around her middle just as she began to pitch forward. She was in the midst of casting the most enormous biotic pull that James had ever seen, and the force of their collision coupled with the expulsion of energy heaved the two of them apart.

James nearly folded in half as he flew to the side. Stones and other debris, which were also displaced by the destructive release of energy, assaulted him. His body burned as he soared, the deep bite of her biotics having lashed at him on more than just a physical level. He landed on his backside with a grunt amidst a huff of dust and leaves, skidding along the ridge. Unable to stop his momentum, he pitched backward over the side of the cliff. His heart leapt into his throat and his vision blurred in panic, but at the last second his numbed fingers managed to find desperate purchase. The muscles in his arms strained agonizingly as he jerked to a halt and they were forced to support his entire weight. He breathed savagely through clenched teeth, ignoring the sting of tears as they slid over the abrasions on his face.

His breathing settled into a manageable rhythm, and he forced himself to glance down. He saw Shepard, clinging desperately to the struggling quarian, trapped in a bubble of bluish white, almost close enough to touch the face of the cliff. Somehow the doctor had managed to maintain her biotics, but James could see the energy was rapidly weakening—changing from super-charged white to a vivid blue and then sliding through various shades thereof.

Shepard could sense the danger, too. She barked angrily at the quarian who eventually stopped thrashing. As he watched, she tightened her hold around the alien's slender waist while simultaneously activating her omni-blade. When T'Soni's biotics finally failed, he heard a vicious hiss followed by a thunderous snap. The death of the biotics created enough inertia to shove the pair into the wall. At the last second, the little quarian produced her own omni-blade with a desperate flick of her fingers and both of them slammed their blades into the rock, securing a tenuous hold.

A sigh of relief escaped him and he returned his focus to his own situation. He gritted his teeth and hauled himself upward. As he crested the edge, he saw a three fingered hand extended out to him and looked up into the gleaming mask of Admiral Han'Gerrel. With the quarian's assistance, James made it to firm ground. He lay on his stomach breathing heavily, wanting nothing more than to mash his face into the dirt.

Instead he pushed himself up until he was kneeling, and scanned the plateau. He saw T'Soni seated against a low rock formation, surrounded by several quarians. The asari was doubled over, her arms and legs stretching out in front of her and she seemed unconscious. He scrambled to his feet, pointed at one of the quarian marines and growled, "Help Commander Shepard."

He ran to Liara's side, falling to his knees once more as he skidded to a stop in front of her. Hastily removing his gloves, he reached out to gently lift her chin. Her face was a mess of purple and black bruises. Blood the colour of sapphires oozed freely from the corners of her mouth and eyes.

"Loco," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

He felt her twitch and then she took a deep breath, a wet cough bubbling up from her chest. She opened her piercing blue eyes, gave him a faint smile before she twisted to the side and spit a huge gob of blood onto the dirt next to her. She tugged off her gloves, and winced as she slowly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"S-shepard?" T'Soni mumbled, motioning feebly for a bit of space. The quarians obliged by backing some distance away.

Realizing that her intent was to stand, James shook his head again. "You gotta stay put, Blue. You're in no shape—"

"Shepard?" Her gaze sharpened on his, narrowed eyes causing his stomach to drop. She struggled to push herself up. Taking pity in the face of her determination, James stood up and braced himself. Gritting his teeth against the discomfort spreading through his body, he assisted her to her feet.

"She's okay. The quarians are helping her," he said as he shifted to support her weight better.

Together they hobbled nearer to the precipice. They stood at a distance, watching as the quarians worked. They must have had rappelling equipment stored in an emergency rescue kit in one of their shuttles, because one of the marines appeared over the edge with Tali strapped securely to him. Before James could get a look at her expression, the quarians closed ranks and ushered her away from the edge. He saw, through the melee of protective bodies, someone hand over her mask, which she shakily snapped into place.

Liara sagged against him, her attention riveted to edge of the cliff where several quarians remained, monitoring Shepard's progress. Eventually the top of the commander's head appeared and she thrust out her arm. The closest quarian reached out and grasped her by the wrist and forearm, hauling her up. Shepard knelt in the dirt for a moment, catching her breath, her blood-red gaze locked on Liara.

He felt the asari tremble against him as she called upon the last dregs of energy in order to stand on her own. Shepard stood up and walked toward Liara. He could feel the tension between them and he wanted to back away, to give them some semblance of privacy, but the commander glanced at him and gestured to Tali and the surrounding quarians.

"I don't care what they say, she's coming to the Normandy," she ordered. "I want her detained. Tell Chakwas I want a psych evaluation. She is not to leave the sickbay, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said.

Before he had a chance to carry out her orders, he saw Liara grasp the commander's face in her hands. He knew he shouldn't watch, but he'd never seen Shepard interact in such a personal way with anyone before. He observed as they stared at one another for a long moment. Eventually, Liara kissed first one cheek, and then gently turned Shepard's face to kiss the other. The commander seemed to stiffen at the display of affection, but visibly relaxed when Liara took a step back and turned away. The asari took one more step before she stopped again. Her chin dropped forward and she seemed too exhausted to move, but surprised him when she pivoted and surged toward the commander again, landing a solid, open-palmed slap against Shepard's cheek. It was powerful enough to rock the commander's head to the side and the sound reverberated in James' ears momentarily.

The doctor's face was an unreadable blank as she stared at the stunned commander. Shepard's eyes narrowed just as T'Soni's own eyes rolled into the back of her head, and the asari collapsed into an exhausted, battered heap in the dirt.

· x ·

* * *

_**Author's Note**_**:** I was remiss in the last chapter and didn't credit LogicalPremise for his assistance. And although he claims otherwise, he really did have a lot to do with the how the chapter was shaped. He also assisted with this current one by sort of focusing my direction. He's an awesome source for all things political (and otherwise) in the ME world. Thanks again, LP.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I wish to thank Sirrocco for being an amazing beta-reader and sounding board, as well. Shepard wanted me to be sure to thank Sirrocco, too, for being one of the few who do not want her dead. _*grin*_

Since I'm harassing you with a lengthy author's note anyway, I might as well take advantage of the moment to say:

Some of you may not know it, but the_subverter has posted a new story called "Shadows". Check it out! You are missing out if you are not reading OriginalAlcy's fic "Catalyst of Fate". And jt-boi's newest, "Providence" has begun. It is the second in a trilogy that begins with "Consequence" and is definitely worth reading. Also check out Bebus and Dr. Jekyl!

arcturusjourney, you deserve public recognition for the effort and thoughtfulness you put into _all_ of your reviews. Thank you for enriching the community.

To everyone who takes the time to review:

If you do not write, you may not know what a wonderful thing you are doing every time you take a moment to let an author know your thoughts (constructive and otherwise) on their stories. I don't often get a chance to touch base personally via PM to express my thanks, so I'd like to do so here: your efforts are greatly appreciated.

Those of you who do write, I suspect you know very well the value of reviews. Each and every one of you gets _double_ the amount of gratefulness! Also, if I have personally neglected commenting on your work, I apologize—my way of making up for it is to put a shout-out in my story. It's not nearly enough, but it's all I've got for now.

Yikes. That was almost as long as the chapter. Gah. Sorry about that.

Happy New Year!

owel


	25. Chapter 25

The day had been long, its effects beginning to extract a toll payable only with marrow deep exhaustion. Shepard resisted it as ferociously as she fought everything. She could not rest—would not allow herself a moment of peace while issues lingered.

They had been here before: Liara laid out on a bed in the medbay; Shepard standing against the furthest wall of the mess hall with her arms folded; her stomach rotten. Absently, she raised a hand to her cheek. The flesh still felt swollen and hot, evidence that Liara had not held back. Shepard had heard the asari's statement loud and clear—she was well versed in the language of anger.

There was no doubt in her mind that Liara had been angry—a strange sort of relieved ire that was evident even as the asari's soft lips had pressed to her cheeks. Shepard could not explain that she had panicked, because until recently she could count on her fingers how many times that had happened in her lifetime. She was unaccustomed to the terrifying lack of control she'd had over the situation.

She didn't know how, but she had heard Tali's small voice whisper an agonized apology. Shepard had instinctively known what the girl had been about to do. Her entire body had gone numb and she experienced sudden lightheadedness. Tali, her beautiful, extraordinarily pale face unmasked for the first time, had spread her arms and stepped back. Every thought had left the commander as her gaze locked on Tali's remarkable, oval-shaped, aquamarine eyes, just before the quarian's head tilted back and she willingly gave herself to the chasm. In that brief moment, Tali's despair had seemed to morph into relief.

Shepard recalled a similar smile on Aislyn's face as the girl took her last breath—relief that her suffering had finally ended.

There hadn't been time; she'd had a split second to form a contingency plan, nothing more—screaming Liara's name was all she had been able to manage. She could see, feel, nothing beyond Tali's survival. And she had followed the girl, knowing that the quarian's reaction had been a result of her actions. She hadn't trusted Tali with her plans to trick the quarians and the geth into cooperating. She had barely taken the time to detail her idea to Liara before expecting her assistance, and the consequences of her actions—those increasingly devastating expectations—were beginning to weigh too heavily.

Footsteps interrupted the silence of the mess hall and Shepard's uncomfortably attempted introspection. Looking up, Shepard saw that Traynor had entered. The young specialist greeted her with a curt nod, her eyes flashing like struck flint. It was the forced sort of cordiality that most of the crew afforded her.

Samantha projected it like blame.

Shepard ignored the young woman, who had busied herself by making a cup of tea, and pushed away from the wall. She headed across the mess to stand outside the medbay. When Chakwas noticed her, she spoke quickly to one of the nurses, waving a hand in Shepard's direction, before emerging.

"Report," Shepard said, sounding more harsh and distant than she intended.

Chakwas regarded her briefly. Shepard had never been very good at reading the older woman, unable to ascertain what she might be thinking from her carefully schooled facial expressions and body language. Through the haze of fatigue an unusual thought surfaced: she wondered, with unexpected self-consciousness, how the doctor perceived her.

"Tali hasn't been harbouring suicidal thoughts, Commander," Chakwas began, turning away from Shepard to peer into the medbay, where Tali sat on a bed, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them. "She was reacting to the potential xenocide of her species, believing you had sanctioned it. While I can't say I agree with her actions, I don't necessarily blame her either. I think we both know that war often has devastating psychological effects."

Shepard nodded solemnly.

"In this case, she's not very happy at the idea of having been deceived given the extremes it pushed her to. I think in the long run that's going to cause more problems than anything else."

"Is she fit for duty?"

"If you can convince her to stay with the Normandy," Chakwas paused, glancing sideways at Shepard. The doctor's tone was without accusation, but conveyed the veiled suggestion to attempt reconciliation, if Shepard cared to heed it. "I'd say yes."

The commander nodded again. "Good. Have any problems arisen from removing her mask?"

"Several minor infections, but nothing we can't take care with a round of antibiotics."

"And Liara?"

Chakwas took a noticeably deeper breath. "She's awake now," she replied. "I've never heard of a biotic doing what she reportedly did and surviving. I would not recommend asking her to repeat such a feat."

"Understood," Shepard said. Her voice was flat and cold, but some of her tension eased.

"Surprisingly, she's merely dehydrated and suffering from extreme exhaustion. I've prescribed a high carbohydrate diet with lots of electrolyte enhanced fluids, as well as plenty of rest. She's damned lucky," Chakwas said, then glanced away. "And frighteningly powerful, it would seem."

_You have no idea_, Shepard thought, but she said, "Can I talk to them?"

Chakwas nodded and Shepard began to move away, but the doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "What about you, Commander?"

Shepard looked up, momentarily confused. "I'm fine," she answered when she realized the doctor was expressing concern for her well-being. "Focus on the crew." The older woman crossed her arms and leveled Shepard with a stern expression, but the commander would not be cowed. "Not now."

Because Chakwas also knew the futility of arguing with Shepard, she wisely stepped back and allowed the commander to pass.

Both duty nurses looked up as Shepard entered the ship's medical facility. She hiked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating that they should step out for a moment. After they had gone, she approached Tali. She could feel Liara's eyes following her from across the room and a guilty heat rose up the back of her neck.

"Chakwas says you'll be fine with a round of antibiotics," she told the quarian.

Tali's posture had changed the moment Shepard entered the room, her hands were now clenched into tight fists and she leaned forward on the bed, no longer hugging her knees. She remained motionless, not bothering to acknowledge what Shepard had said.

"Look, I am sorry for how things played out down there, but I have to focus on the end game, Tali, you _know_ that." Even as she said it, she knew how harsh it sounded. "This is about the entire galaxy… we need the geth… your people…" she trailed off. She wondered if it was too fresh for both of them.

She realized it was when the little quarian unclenched her fists only to ball them up again. "Not everyone is expendable," Tali hissed bitterly, unknowingly echoed words Liara had once spoken. Tali had never admonished her before, and she knew that if they continued with the conversation, there would be irreparable damage because Shepard felt her temper rising to match.

"Fine," she snapped, struggling to contain her resentment. She dramatically indicated the exit. "You can go. Let me know if you're gonna stick around, or if you want to return to the fleet."

Tali moved slowly off the bed and stalked to the exit. She didn't say anything as the door slid open and she stepped through it. Shepard watched her retreat, body thrumming with frustration.

"Give her time," she heard Liara say softly.

"I haven't got the fucking time," she muttered, too quietly for Liara to hear.

Struggling through exhaustion to curb her irritation, Shepard made her way to the asari's side. Liara had moved the bed into a sitting position and was looking at her with wide, soulful eyes that peeked out in distinct contrast to the mosaic of bruises. As soon as the commander was near enough, Liara reached out, but stopped short of touching Shepard's cheek. Her hand hovered for a moment before she slowly dropped it to rest on her stomach.

Shepard bowed her head, wishing she could close her eyes to block out the contusions—evidence of Liara's devotion. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly very dry. She managed a hushed "Thank you."

"Always," Liara said.

"I didn't think," Shepard admitted.

Liara lightly touched Shepard's forearm, her lips quirking into an understanding smile. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"It is fine."

"No," Shepard replied. Her eyes began to sting. She blinked a few times, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, Liara. It's not fine. This—us—it's not." Her words ground to a halt. She took a deep, bracing breath. "It's not going to work. Your… loyalty to me is unhealthy. My expectations will kill you."

Liara's grip tightened. "Shepard, we have discussed this," she replied, a tremor of panic lacing her words.

"I don't _want_ you to die for me, Liara." She forced her voice to sound cold, jerking her arm out of the asari's grasp. She took several steps away, and stood with her back to Liara. "I have to make decisions that are in everyone's best interests. This is one of those moments."

"You do not know what you are saying," Liara said, the anguish bleeding thoroughly into her tone. Shepard heard Liara shift on the bed and turned around to see her struggling to swing her legs over the side. The asari surged to her feet, but she was unsteady and had to lean back against the bed for support. The paper-thin hospital gown that Chakwas had dressed her in added to the indignity she suffered.

"It's… better this way. You'll be safer," Shepard mumbled. She couldn't meet Liara's gaze, unable to bear her hurt.

"Please… do not do this, Muireall."

There was almost a warning edge to Liara's words. Regardless, Shepard had already made her decision. Liara had been right to slap her—Shepard was as reckless with other people's lives as she was with her own. She didn't want Liara to become a casualty as well.

"This will be the last time I hurt you," Shepard said. She turned away again, cowardice directing her actions. She heard a tiny, tormented sob accompany the rustle of the sheets as Liara dropped back onto the bed.

"I love you," she whispered so quietly she could almost convince herself that she had not spoken.

The only sound she heard in response was the hiss of the door as she exited.

· x ·


	26. Chapter 26

Her fingers curled around the thick base of a highball glass as Samantha contemplated her next move. With her free hand, she reached out to touch the crown of her white queen, feeling the delicate ridges of the piece. A droplet of water fell from her freshly washed hair as she leaned over the board, landing on her fingers and slowly trickling down the front of the queen.

The set had once belonged to a friend she'd had back on Earth, an elderly gentleman she had met at the retirement home where she volunteered. He had given it to her as a farewell gift when she received orders to assist with retrofitting the Normandy. She had always kept it close at hand, often playing a game with herself on lunch break in the Normandy's mess while the ship was docked as work progressed. It had remained where she left it, on a table in the mess, even as the ship was called to active duty during the reaper attack.

_The reapers…_

Leaning back, she gripped the queen tightly in her palm, adjusting her robe as it slipped off one otherwise naked shoulder. She tipped the glass and quickly drank back the alcohol. She had poured only enough to glaze the bottom of the glass, but it was her third such shot. Her throat felt coated by fire and she struggled not to cough, loathe to interrupt the silence. In the still quiet of the secluded hotel room on the Citadel it was easy to forget that war was being waged—that her friends, the gentleman who had gifted the set, were likely dead along with millions of others.

Samantha had spent months in the company of some of the most incredible individuals in the known universe. She had purchased the bottle in order to toast them, in thanks for keeping her alive as long as they had.

In forgiveness for their eventual failure.

Allowing her head to drop against the back of the couch, Samantha closed her eyes and tried to keep the ever-present terror from erupting. If she let her thoughts linger on the inevitable outcome of their effort, she could lose herself to despair. If she gave in, she would be no good to Shepard, to Liara—to the rest of the Normandy's crew who worked seamlessly, tirelessly, toward the same futile end.

She doubted any of the minor pieces would be suitable for promotion if the major chessmen were to fall.

Shepard. Liara. Their names swirled ceaselessly through her mind. Rannoch had turned out to be some sort of turning point for the pair. She recalled seeing Shepard in the mess, like a surreal replay of the first time Liara had been hurt, only this time she hadn't attempted to awkwardly comfort the commander. The woman had been struggling with something and Samantha had found that she couldn't quite care. It made her feel at odds with herself to want nothing more than to walk away from someone else's suffering.

She had been on her way to the medbay to see that Liara was safe, feeling guilty about the way they had left things. Seeing the commander had brought up a chaos of unwanted feelings. She was still furious with herself for becoming embroiled in the drama of the most destructive couple she had ever met—for still wanting the asari so badly despite it all.

Subsequently, she had forced herself into a pattern of avoidance. She had not seen Liara, merely inquired after her health from Chakwas, then taken her tea and returned to the crew quarters. For the remainder of the trip to the Citadel, Samantha had kept herself safely hidden away.

An alert from her omni-tool dragged her from her hopeless thoughts and she sat forward, placing the glass on the table next to the chessboard. She stood up, drawing the soft bathrobe tighter as she crossed the room. Her footsteps felt heavy, dragging, the alcohol hitting her hard. She went to the table beside the door where she had left the device. Picking it up, she checked the message. A frown creased the edges of her mouth and she dropped it back to the table without reading it entirely.

About to return to her game, Samantha jumped when the chime for the door went off. Her frown deepened. Leery of any visitors, the specialist activated the viewport. She sighed and keyed the door to open.

"Liara."

Sam moved back, allowing the asari to enter. Liara was wearing her light armour, the blue stripes looking murkier against the dirty gray that the white had become. The bruises on her face had faded, but they still contrasted her skin. The asari's eyes were haunted as she glanced around Samantha's room. She noticed the chessboard, the bottle of krogan spirits and the solitary glass.

"Humans should never drink Ryncol alone, Specialist."

"It wasn't alone." Sam flippantly waved at the collection of mini bottles scattered over a desk across the room. Frustrated that Liara had turned up despite her attempt to disappear, she took a deep breath. "Did you need something?"

Liara looked over at her and she felt her face heat as the asari took in her wet hair, her gaze raking over Sam's robed body. The specialist crossed her arms, clutching the robe tighter, ensuring it revealed nothing. "You have been ignoring my messages," Liara finally said.

"I wanted to be alone."

Liara froze, blinking slowly. "I will go." Her voice was plaintive and the way her head dropped forward as she turned to leave tugged at Samantha's heartstrings.

She touched Liara's shoulder. "No. Please, come in."

"You are certain?" Liara's tone was almost cautionary. Samantha wondered at that.

She nodded. "Can I offer you a drink?" Sam asked, moving deeper into the room to retrieve a second glass. As she approached the coffee table for the bottle, Liara gently took hold of her forearm and relieved her of the glass. Samantha flinched; Liara's touch, electrifying. The asari set the tumbler down and moved closer, penetrating Samantha's personal space. As she did, she brought the specialist's fist up between them and slowly pried her fingers apart until the queen she had forgotten she was clutching lay on her palm between them. Red dents had appeared in her skin in its shape.

Liara plucked the queen out of Samantha's hand and studied it, smiling sadly. "You were playing by yourself?"

Samantha looked down. "It's one of the ways I de-stress and get out of… negative headspace." Hastily breaking free of the asari's grip, Samantha's wrist brushed down the front of Liara's armour, across her belly. She stuffed her hands into the large pockets of the robe, causing it to slip open slightly.

The asari was so close Sam could feel the heat of her body. It made her shiver.

Before she could move away, Liara had reached out to take a lock of her hair between her fingers. It was still damp, but the asari looped it over her fingers and then let it run through before repeating the process. Samantha's breath hitched.

"Yours is so much softer," Liara said. She glanced away, blue eyes taking on a faraway look. Samantha didn't need to ask to whom she was being compared. The asari blinked and turned back to her again, desire unexpectedly blazing in her eyes. Liara slowly slid her fingers through Samantha's hair until they came to rest delicately at the base of her neck.

Samantha sucked in a breath. "Liara…" She doubted that she managed the warning tone she intended.

Liara pressed closer, brushing her cheek against Sam's, her breath tickling the specialist's ear as she whispered, "I need..." Liara trailed her fingers down her neck, beneath the robe to trace the shape of her clavicle.

Unfortunately, the fire racing through her obediently followed the asari's every move. In an effort to distract herself from the wonderful feeling of Liara's touch, she asked, "Why is your armour dirty? Where have you been, Liara?"

"Wandering," Liara said. Fingers traced heat back across her collar bone. Samantha heard something small clatter against the floor and realized hazily that it was the white queen as Liara ducked her head and gently kissed her lips.

Once.

Delicately.

As though Liara thought she might break her.

In a twisted echo of Traynor's thoughts, Liara said, "I am broken." A whisper against Samantha's lips.

Sam's heartbeat kicked up at the same time as her conscience. "What about—Shepard?" Samantha whispered. The name should have been akin to a slap, but Samantha felt Liara's determination. The asari's fingers tightened in her hair, and with a gasp of pleasure she found herself drawn closer to danger. "Wh—what happened?"

"Shepard. Shepard _always_ happens."

The robe parted a little more, Samantha felt cool air battling the heat. She knew the risk; if she allowed a true ignition, she would be devastated. The question, lingering in the back of her mind, was whether she cared.

An obscure form of self-preservation kicked in. A last ditch attempt.

"You—" A delicate line drawn down her throat. "Are—" Both hands on her shoulders, the robe being pushed off; too much and too slowly. "Using me."

Supple lips closed over hers again, devouring—all too briefly. The kiss broke, leaving Samantha bereft. "I will stop." Another tiny kiss. "If you ask me to."

"Hardly fair," Samantha mumbled. She tugged her hands out of her pockets where Liara's proximity had imprisoned them. She pushed against the asari, creating space, the illusion of distance. "Do you even know what you're asking?"

The robe hung from her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. Vulnerable. The material still covered her breasts, the sash creating a deep 'v', allowing Samantha to claim a shred of dignity.

Liara walked several paces away, stopping with her back to Sam, her head bowed. "Do you want me?" Liara asked, words heavy with deprivation. Samantha felt a stab of pity.

"You _know_ that I do."

Liara took two more steps, her hips swaying provocatively. She glanced over her shoulder at Samantha, eyes shining intensely. She shrugged and her jacket slipped off one shoulder, baring a slice of luxurious, blue skin. Liara did the same thing with the other shoulder, allowing the jacket to slide down as she slipped out of it. Samantha's hands twitched with the desire to run them over Liara's spectacularly muscular back. Her mouth went dry as the asari turned slowly to face her. She couldn't keep her gaze from briefly dropping to Liara's breasts, captive in a simple, gray bra.

"I am here," Liara said. Her voice was husky as she dangled the jacket from one finger before tossing it over the arm of the couch.

"Don't—please. I—I haven't got the strength—" She shook her head, taking a deep, shuddering breath. And a tiny step towards Liara, thinking, _Once you've captured me, I will no longer be in the game._

Ignoring Sam's pleas, Liara kicked off her boots before hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pants. She slid them slowly to the front, where she undid the button and spread the fly open, revealing more gray underclothes. She flattened her palms over her hips, caressing herself as she guided the pants. She wiggled her hips and they slipped down so that she could step out of them.

Samantha swallowed. Hard.

Liara spread her arms in offering. "I _am_ asking. Must I _beg_?"

The specialist's legs weakened at the abundance of faintly scaled blue skin. Somehow the reality of Liara's plain, regulation underclothes was sexier than anything she'd fantasized the asari might wear. The way Liara cocked her hip and stood with one knee gently bent, offering herself, made Samantha's cheeks heat with desire. And indecision. She took another step toward Liara without realizing it.

Stopping dead, Samantha whispered, "I don't know what to do."

"Is it not clear?" Liara moved closer, toying with the bottom of Samantha's sleeve and offered a lopsided, teasing smile. She tugged gently at the sleeve and the robe slipped a little more. Amazingly blue eyes met Samantha's. "Shall I show you?"

The asari took Samantha's palm and flattened it against her belly. Her mind blanked at the sensation of Liara's fevered skin. She'd never been with an asari and she marvelled at how soft Liara was. She'd thought the slightly pebbled quality would make asari feel rougher, but Liara's skin was silky. She slid her hand higher. Just below the siren swell of Liara's breast, thankfully still covered in cloth, she hesitated.

"Liara," Samantha breathed, still struggling. "This isn't right."

"I fail to see the issue." The asari sounded frustrated. "Would it not be consensual?"

"I can't," she whispered, snatching her hand back and readjusting her robe so that it was firmly closed. "_I won't._" She leaned to the side and picked up Liara's jacket, unable to meet Liara's eyes as she offered it to her. "You—you're behaving like Shepard—trying to… to _take_ what you want. I won't let you destroy us both."

· x ·

_Author's Note:_ Thanks, as always, to Sirrocco, ML and LogicalPremise for their guidance, expertise and most of all support.


	27. Chapter 27

As she entered engineering, Tali'Zorah was bathed with faint, pulsing blue light. Most unnecessary systems had been powered down while the Normandy was docked, leaving the department darker than normal, which complimented the quarian's mood.

She had been stewing in the crew quarters when she received an alert on her omni-tool that someone had requested access to impending repair work-orders. Given that only a skeleton crew remained on the Normandy, she had been curious enough to check it out. It hadn't surprised her to find that it had been Shepard who accessed the orders. The commander normally approved any maintenance that needed to be performed. Tali became concerned, however, when she saw that the commander had logged out the tools and parts required to perform the repair.

It had taken hours of tinkering for Tali to finally manage to get the Normandy's propulsion systems working optimally. Fury consumed her at the thought of Shepard ruining her hard work, especially after all the damage she'd already caused.

Tali stormed toward an open hatch that emanated a soft orange glow. She stooped, peering into the hole. She could see that the commander was preparing to tamper with the driver coils. Tali knew they were close to the end of their life cycle—she calculated quickly in her head: roughly twelve million cochrane-hours. She didn't trust anyone else, except perhaps Adams himself, to perform the neutron purge refurbishment, fuelling her desire to make Shepard stop.

Shepard had somehow managed to cram herself into the tiny space and had tangled her omni-tool in some wires to provide enough light to work. Tali watched the woman wriggle her shoulders, attempting to shimmy onto her side a bit more in order to give her left hand better mobility. She cursed as she dropped the tool she had been holding.

"Jesus fuck, Adams! How the hell do you people access this shit to fix it?" she hollered at the omni-tool. Tali realized that Shepard had Adams patched into her omni to walk her through the repair.

Adams chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the commander's gruffness. "I think the turians fudged with the engineering schematics to have one over on us." He paused, waiting for the commander to laugh. When she didn't, he continued, "It's a distinct advantage having a quarian on board, Ma'am. That girl can go places no normal-sized human could."

The commander growled, "You let her crawl in here? Her goddamn suit could get snagged and breach. I already ripped open my arm!"

"Don't worry, we grease her up first," Adams answered.

Tali smiled at that. When she had first joined the Normandy, Adams and the other engineers had been delighted, joking that they no longer had to lube up in order to get into tight spaces. It had been some time before Garrus explained that the humans were being crass. Instead of being disgusted, Tali had actually been thrilled. The fact that they would tease one another in front of her meant that she belonged—that they accepted her as part of the crew.

"That's not funny, Adams." Shepard groused.

"No, Ma'am. Of course not, Ma'am."

"You said to detach the wire-thing, snip off the end, strip back another millimeter, twist it and then solder it back onto the wire-holder thing?"

"What I said, Commander, was to leave it alone. I'll deal with it when leave is over."

"I am perfectly capable of doing this."

"Of that I have no doubt," Adams answered diplomatically, if a little warily. "But the problem is that it's difficult to explain what to do when I can't see what you're looking at. Honestly, I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave the engineering to the engineers."

"Just had to find some dumbass engineering shit that's _way_ over your head to occupy your fucking mind, didn't you, Commander?" Shepard muttered to herself. To the chief engineer she merely growled, "I'm already fucking crammed in here, so will you please just tell me again so I can get out of this goddamned hole?"

"Yes, Ma'am—"

"Keelah!" Tali shouted, unable to hold her tongue any longer. She didn't want Shepard to strip any wires. She didn't want Shepard to solder anything. Quarians were particular about how their ships were maintained and she still thought of the Normandy as her ship, regardless of her current feelings for its captain. "Shepard, get out of there!" She lowered her voice and muttered, "I wouldn't want you to break anything _else_."

Shepard jumped, whacking her head on a protruding piece of metal. She cussed loudly and unthinkingly tried to rub her head, but only succeeded into twisting herself up more. "Fuck," she swore again. "All right, Adams. You win. _You_ can fix this shit when you get back."

"Thank you, Commander." The engineer didn't mask his relief. "Adams out."

Tali stood up and moved back as Shepard untangled herself, grabbed the tools that were haphazardly scattered around her, and carefully backed out of the access space. As soon as Tali saw the commander's regulation shit-kickers, her stomach coiled into a heated knot. Shepard emerged on her stomach, and then rolled over to push herself into a sitting position.

Tali wanted to chastise the human for wearing a one-piece coverall with the top unzipped and rolled down around her waist. She wasn't even wearing a cap to protect her head. Every engineer knew that you didn't crawl into tight spaces wearing anything that might get caught on protrusions. The quarian caught herself and resisted the urge. Shepard's crisp, white, tank top was soaked with sweat and the strands of hair that escaped her pony-tail were plastered to her forehead. Sitting there, rubbing her head where she had bumped it, Shepard looked as miserable as Tali felt.

"Tali," Shepard said, looking up at her, face carefully expressionless as she struggled to rise.

"Don't," Tali commanded sternly, throwing up her hand.

The human looked ready to rebuke Tali for ordering her around, but she stayed down. Her mouth snapped shut and her cheeks puffed out indignantly. In another surprising show of restraint, she eventually schooled her expression, leaned back on her palms and adopted a relaxed pose. Her posture suggested an ease that Tali knew neither one of them felt.

Tali simmered with anger—just as she had since the incident on Rannoch. She planted her hands on her hips and paced away from Shepard, trying in vain to mold her emotions into articulate thoughts.

She was livid that the commander had not trusted her. Trust was prized almost as highly as family and loyalty among quarians. Tali made a habit of giving Shepard the benefit of the doubt. She had always staunchly supported the commander, despite how gruff and unreasonable she could be. Shepard nearly always made the right decision in the end, whether Tali agreed with her methods or not.

She never imagined that the one time she _needed_ Shepard's support, the commander would forsake her completely.

**...**

_The environmental systems of her suit work overtime, battling the residual heat of the scorched earth, but Tali feels cold. She stares at Shepard. At Legion. Her chest hurts. She can't get enough air. She can't see straight. She can't catch her breath. She can't think beyond the betrayal. _

_Shepard allows Legion to upload the reaper code. The quarian fleet, _her people_, will be eradicated as a result. She can't bear the shame of such an empyrean failure. Their home world had been within their grasp and she had not been able to convince Shepard, her friend, to stop the last geth standing in their way._

_Her mask. Her suit. Both are unbearable. She lifts a hand to her faceplate, detaching it. She takes a deep breath. The air, foreign, somehow familiar and delightful, assaults her nostrils. It is filled with the scent of dust and heat—the smells of Rannoch and war. She has moved, although she is unaware of it. She stands at the precipice, looking out over the sprawling vistas. The beauty of Rannoch is astounding._

_Turning, spreading her arms. Whispering, "I'm sorry." Fingers going numb, dropping her mask. Taking a last step back._

_Home at last._

**...**

Tali blinked, taking a deep breath. Her eyes stung and tears slipped down her cheeks at the vivid memory. She stopped pacing and faced the commander. She had to say _something_, but she had no idea how to begin. She said the first thing that came to mind. "Why are you messing with my ship?"

Shepard raised an amused eyebrow. "_Your_ ship?"

Tali felt her cheeks heat, realizing she had unintentionally given Shepard the upper hand. Shepard had grievously deceived her, but the quarian's honor dictated that she hear her ship's captain out. Her blood boiled at Shepard's betrayal. While in moments of lucidity Tali could almost understand why the commander had done it, she would not allow Shepard to steamroll her.

Shepard pressed ahead before she could speak. "It's not your ship unless you intend to stay."

"That depends on a few things," Tali spat.

Shepard pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Her cheeks turned red and her blazing eyes narrowed slightly. "Like what, precisely?"

"I think you owe me a _sincere_ apology."

"For what? Saving your goddamned life?"

A tiny twinge of guilt made Tali's chest tighten. Despite her bold words, the commander looked like a nervous child, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled tight to her chest. Shepard was exceptionally susceptible, and trying to disguise that fact by tapping into a reserve of false bravado. If Tali pressed her advantage, she might regret it. Even though she was grateful to be alive, she couldn't let go of her anger. Shepard had hurt her deeply with her treachery; she had _earned_ Tali's resentment.

"I supported you, Shepard. Your Alliance wouldn't give you the time of day when you joined Cerberus." She spat the last, bitter word. "Ashley treated you like a pariah. Liara was obsessed with the Shadow Broker, too tangled up in her own life to care what you were doing. It's pretty obvious why people who have met you have no reservations abandoning you, Shepard, but _I_ was there for you!" Her voice softened to an anguished whisper. "Look at how you repaid me."

Tali took several steps away, resting one hand on the wall for support. She put the other over her faceplate, tilting her head forward as she closed her eyes. She breathed deeply, wrangling herself under control. Straightening, she opened her eyes and rounded on Shepard again. Calmly, she asked, "Why couldn't you trust me?"

The commander let the facade drop, exposing vulnerability in stark contrast to anything Tali had ever seen from the woman. Her anger ebbed away. She couldn't sustain it when she was presented with a side of Shepard that rarely saw the light.

The human took a shaky breath, straightened her legs and leaned forward, clasping her hands together. She stared at them, talked to them so she could avoid looking at Tali. "I didn't know what I was going to do until the reaper was down. I only had enough time to ask Liara for help handling Admiral Han'Gerrel. I… didn't intend to hurt you, Tali. I _wouldn't_…"

"I know," Tali whispered. She crouched down next to Shepard and touched the commander's shoulder. Shepard flinched at the contact, but the quarian didn't withdraw her hand. "But I _am_ hurt, Shepard, and… I am _ashamed_ of myself." Tali took a deep breath, before admitting, "I should have trusted you, too."

"We can't change what happened."

Tali nodded. "I need some time. I'd like to stay on the Normandy, but you need to stay away from me. For now."

Shepard's face scrunched in a momentary display of pain, but she nodded her head.

"Okay." Tali let out a relieved breath. She stood up again and turned away. "Good."

Rising quickly, Shepard caught Tali's hand and squeezed it gently before the quarian tugged it away. "I _am _sorry."

Tali acknowledged Shepard with a slight inclination of her head. "There's one other thing," she said.

"What is it?"

"I realize this isn't any of my business, but you really need to speak with Liara." A mask of indifference slammed into place on Shepard's face, shutting her vulnerability away. Regardless, the quarian persisted, "The last time I saw her like this was when you died. She's going to derail, Shepard."

"Liara will be fine." The woman spoke the words as though she were trying to convince herself.

"Look, you can pretend things will be fine. You can pretend not to care about her. But we both know you wouldn't be in here, messing with _my_ ship if you weren't as upset as she is.

"Whatever you did," Tali poked Shepard in the chest, "you _fix_ it."

· x ·

_Author's Note_: I picked a theme song for GF. It's called Hurricane, by Thirty Seconds to Mars. You can find the lyrics in my profile.

*gratefully nods at Midnight Lion, Sirrocco and LogicalPremise* You guys rock!

**And now a note from our sponsor (Okay, so maybe not our sponsor, but read on anyway!)**:

Hello, fellow traumatized readers of Owel's wonderful fic, Glacial Fire! Please, take a minute to compose yourselves. I know how emotionally draining these chapters can be. Take all the time you need.

Good to go? No? It's okay, I can wait. I understand your pain.

Still not ready yet? Oh, you are? Oh, good; I'm so glad. You're sure you're all right?

Well, in any case, I admire your fortitude in being able to keep up with this fic. I don't care how interesting or well-written it is, it always kicks me right in the feels. Owel really has a talent for torturing Mass Effect characters in new and exciting ways. I, on the other hand, do not believe in such unethical treatment of fictional beings who are already dealing with the end of the world.

So, by now it should be clear to anyone still reading Glacial Fire that Owel is pretty evil. I mean, do you even see what's happening in this story? Do you see how poor Traynor is being treated? DO YOU? Yes, Owel is evil. Of course, according to Owel, I'm pretty evil myself. (I think Owel is just bitter about how cats totally destroy birds. Who am I? Ah... some of you are unfortunate enough to know me here as Midnight Lion. If you aren't that unlucky, please, keep yourselves that way. But enough about me.)

Anyway, Owel has basically challenged me to an evil-off, which means we take turns (500-word turns) trying to make ME characters unbelievably miserable based on prompts you guys come up with for us. I would like it stated for the record that I'm pretty sure this is highly unethical, and it was all Owel's idea. But...maybe I'm a _little_bit evil, because I really want to do it. So, c'mon! _**PM**_ prompts to me or Owel (send them to Owel!) and we'll get to work. Being evil. Because it's a chore. (According to Owel. I wouldn't know.)

We'll also post the interesting/horrifying/traumatizing results in a story! Sometime.

That's all. You can go back to crying over whatever Owel did in this chapter that made you cry now.

Best,

ML


	28. Chapter 28

She made it several feet from the hotel, into the darkened maw of an alley, before her legs buckled beneath her. She flung out a hand in an attempt to stop her fall, but it slid uselessly down the wall as she crumpled. Landing on her knees, Liara T'Soni collapsed into herself, hunching over to stifle a wail of pain. Her forehead came to rest on the filthy ground as she rocked forward.

Sobs shook her body as tears slid down her face, hanging from her chin before pattering against the concrete. She couldn't find the strength to stand. She pressed her palms into the surface on either side of her head, grinding the grit and dirt into them. The muck disgusted her, an appropriate addition to her failures.

Mistake piled upon mistake, compounding to crush her.

_Lost_.

Liara had been adrift since Shepard cut her loose. She had given too much to the human, becoming an empty shell of her former self. Wandering absently through parts of the Citadel, she found nothing that could fill the void. The poignant bite of Shepard's rejection lingered, and Liara had wanted—no, _needed_ reassurance.

She hadn't been thinking when she turned up at her friend's threshold. The sight of Samantha's skin, wrapped like exquisite milk chocolate in a luxurious white bathrobe, had ignited a fierce ache in Liara. The desire to _feel_ normal, to be lovingly caressed by caring hands, had blazed so brightly that Liara briefly lost her grip on her self-control.

_Ryncol. Chess. The white queen clutched so tightly in the human's palm. Her soft, damp hair begging to be touched. The sensation of a fragile kiss that spoke of longing. Skin, silky and supple against her fingertips. The queen clattering to the floor beneath them._

Samantha's loneliness paralleled her own.

She had been acting thoughtlessly, but the specialist's refusal had brought discipline cascading back in a wash of shame. Liara had bared herself in every sense of the word, trusting Samantha to treat her as the woman always had; carefully, reverently.

Watching the human struggle against her desire had frustrated Liara. She took exception to Samantha's suggestion that she had been behaving like Shepard. She blindly grabbed at her jacket, snatching it from the specialist even as Sam refused to meet her gaze.

After hastily dressing, Liara had spun and made her way to the door, ignoring Samantha's quiet, soothing voice as it followed her until she had managed to shut the door behind herself. There had been blessed silence then; the human's commiserative tones and gentle words eliminated. She did not need Samantha's pity; she had needed her touch, needed a physical connection to eradicate doubt and feelings of inadequacy.

She had been so certain that Samantha would take what she wanted while giving her what she needed. To her mortification, as she lurched through the hotel in an unseeing search for the exit, she realized Samantha had spoken the truth: Liara _had_ begun to make a habit of using people for her own needs.

The hush of the alley failed to keep the existence of her transgressions at bay, and the truth of what she had almost done flooded over her, crushing her to the street tiles.

The guilt was agonizing.

She shook her head, the gesture coating her forehead in filth. _Goddess_, she would never again be able to look Samantha in the face.

Worse, how could she purport to love Muireall? Liara had known that any sort of relationship with the human would be corrupting, bordering on destructive. She had pursued, regardless, like a goddess-damned fool.

Liara had done great—_terrible—_things since meeting the human. She told herself she could balance the distasteful methods Shepard often used to attain her goals. The truth, however, was so vastly different that Liara refused to acknowledge it. While Shepard unintentionally inspired those around her, the woman also easily dismantled things, people, and relationships. In the end, Liara had been just as irreparably warped as anyone else. She had existed for slightly more than a century but nothing had altered her in quite the way that Shepard had.

The ends always justified the means for the commander.

Shepard stopped at nothing, for no one, and that made her the galaxy's only hope. Liara had not intended—had not _wanted_—to change the woman, but every act of kindness, every gentle embrace softened the brusque commander, diminishing her effectiveness. Whatever walls Shepard had, she _needed_ to safeguard her resolve. Liara had selfishly dismantled what she could, carelessly exposing the human in an Achillean manner.

Curling her hands into fists, Liara smashed one against the floor. The bruising force served to fleetingly stave off despair and guilt. She planted her knuckles in the grime and pushed off, finding the courage to stand on wobbly legs at last.

· x ·

The kid plunked her sorry ass on a stool at the far end of the bar. She wore a far-away expression at odds with how she typically appeared when they had engaged one another in the past. Instead of greeting her with some hasty, acerbic comment, the maiden stared absently across the artificially darkened Presidium. She slid her credit chit over the freshly cleaned surface, gesturing towards Aethyta for a drink.

Benezia had obviously failed to instill manners, a fact that might startle her if she cared to think about it.

"Use your words," Aethyta barked, tucking the bar cloth into her back pocket. "I can't read your damned mind."

Liara's head rose slowly to peg her with a bitter glare. "Pardon me?"

"Your hearing is just fine."

The kid got all offended. Looked just like her mother. "Do you lose many customers speaking like that?"

"You haven't ordered anything and I'm not paid enough to keep snot-nosed, teenaged brats happy."

It had clearly been a long time since someone had referred to Liara as a teenager, judging by the expression on her face. Never mind that it was almost the truth, the kid appeared to be in no mood to be belittled. Liara's face became a sculpture of hard lines and sharp angles that poorly masked the suffering beneath.

Aethyta was aware of the game the two of them played, the business of pretending not to know each other. Liara had been coming to the café for some time now. She chose to work while sitting at one of the outdoor tables whenever the Normandy was docked. It was an unstated declaration that she knew Aethyta was watching, almost as if to say, "Let me make it easier for you, you old bag."

Until one of them admitted they knew who the other was, Aethyta was content to antagonize her daughter. "Listen, kid, you think you're the first maiden to sit her sorry ass down at my bar and stare dejectedly off into space? Tell me what you want, or get lost. It's almost closing time and I've got places I'd rather be."

_That_ might be a lie, but the kid didn't need to know that.

"Scotch. On the rocks," Liara tersely replied. She inclined her head toward the card on the bar. "And keep the chit, in payment for having to suffer _maidens_."

Aethyta snorted. Liara was not practiced at affecting disdain and her sarcasm fell flat, moving the matriarch to pity. By the look of her girl, she needed a hearty meal more than anything. Aethyta didn't think she had anything overly substantial left to offer, but she did have something the kid might like. She held up a hand before disappearing into the back of the bar. She grabbed a clean bowl and opened the warming dish. She had been saving the contents for her dinner, but Liara needed it more.

"_You_ keep the chit, this one's on the house." She wrapped her rag around the bowl to avoid burning her fingers as she carried it. After carefully depositing it on the bar, Aethyta grabbed a spoon and leaned on the counter, holding it out right in front of her girl's face.

"This is not scotch."

"Observant little one, aren't you?" Aethyta laughed, the sound brisk but not unpleasant. "No. It's chicken soup. The humans love it."

"I asked for scotch." Liara accepted the spoon.

Rolling her eyes, Aethyta lifted her hands to the sky. "Goddess, she thinks I'm deaf as well as a mind reader." She gestured to the bowl. "_Eat it._ You'll feel better."

Liara looked skeptical, but she picked up the spoon and dipped it into the broth. She sniffed it and her expression change to one of eagerness, making Aethyta wonder how long it had been since she had last eaten. Liara blew over the surface of the soup, before taking a dainty sip. Her eyes widened. "It is… delightful," she murmured, dunking the spoon again.

"Hmph. Now you know my secret for _keeping_ customers." Reaching beneath the bar, Aethyta grabbed a small package and offered it to Liara. The younger asari paused with the spoon halfway to her lips. "Go on, try those with it." She put the package down and slid it across to her daughter. "You look like you could use something a little more substantial, anyway."

Liara tilted her head to the side. "What are they?"

"Saltine crackers. Apparently they complement the dish. I've seen humans mash them up in the package and then dump them in. Never tried it myself."

Taking the package, Liara brought her fist down on it, obliterating the crackers. She carefully opened it over top of the bowl of soup and watched intently as they peppered the surface. Just as she picked up her spoon again, a loud beeping startled the two of them.

Her daughter dropped the utensil and activated her omni-tool. Aethyta watched in alarm as Liara blanched. She had never seen someone bleed colour so quickly, and her stomach dropped at the twisted look of anguish that came over her girl.

"What is it?"

The kid had to swallow a few times before she could speak.

"It's from Commander She—" Her mouth moved, but her voice seemed to stop working. She smothered her lips with tips of her fingers, as though trying to contain her horror. Grabbing Aethyta's hand with her free one, Liara's eyes darkened in despair. It was another agonizing moment before she managed to collect herself enough to anxiously whisper, "_Thessia._"

· x ·

_Author's Note: _ML I know you wanted more, but I'm sorry I just couldn't. I tried! I spent two hours trying to make it happen. _Sigh_. Alas, my brains are mush.


	29. Chapter 29

The shuttle rocked, the thunder of nearby explosions reverberated through the cabin as they approached the landing zone.

Shepard rechecked her shotgun, pumping the slide and popping out the heat sink. She surreptitiously glanced toward Liara as she pretended to inspect the thermal clip. The asari sat on her hands, stony face turned toward the monitor, watching the video feed of reapers scouring her home-world. Liara hadn't moved since taking her seat in the shuttle, her expression remaining impressively vacant.

Slamming the clip home, Shepard replaced the shotgun in its holster on her back. She could see Lieutenant Vega in her periphery. She turned to him. "You golden?"

"Aye, aye, Commander."

His answer was concise, as she expected, but he looked as though he had something to add. When she raised an eyebrow, he merely shrugged and jerked his head towards Liara. Shepard's lips pressed into a thin line. James was a valuable soldier, a man who would make an excellent N7 operative _if_ he could stop being such a bleeding heart. Shepard had expected him to harden as the war continued, but he seemed to cling his compassion as though it could be life preserving. They had once discussed the offer he had received from top brass, but she had held off on offering advice until she could determine how he handled debilitating situations. In spite of herself, she had to admit that his ability to maintain his cool in the face of his sensitivity was impressive.

Narrowing her eyes, Shepard shook her head. The Lieutenant's cheeks reddened slightly as he took the cue. Dropping his gaze, he moved off to engage in a hushed conversation with Cortez.

Refocusing her own attention on Liara, Shepard noted that the asari still had not moved.

Bracing herself on the bulkhead, she asked, "Do you have anything more on this artifact?"

Liara blinked once, as though only just waking. Her head slowly swiveled towards the commander. She wordlessly activated her omni-tool, made a few aggressive swipes on the holographic keyboard and then shut it down. A moment later, Shepard's emitted a tone indicating she had received data.

The shuttle pitched again. Shepard swayed with it. Liara continued to stare; not at the commander, but _through_ her. Her countenance was icy.

Shepard couldn't let Liara learn about Thessia from anyone else; while in the midst of her meeting with Tevos, she had sent Liara a note. Her determination that the Shadow Broker not find out about her homeworld through her uncaring network justified the callousness of her method of communication, Shepard told herself.

As Shepard requested in her message, Liara had met her in the CIC, remaining motionless as the commander ordered the yeoman to recall the Normandy's crew. Then the asari had listened with chilly detachment as the commander explained their situation. Shepard had reached out to her, but Liara disregarded the attempt, disappearing into the elevator.

The asari's emptiness made Shepard doubt her decision to include Liara on the ground team even though she knew that no one could have prevented Liara from reaching Thessian soil.

"T'Soni?"

Frigid blue eyes lifted to meet Shepard's. "My people are dying," Liara intoned flatly. She turned back to the monitor. "I would prefer to focus on the mission."

Shepard bit back a response, curbing the urge to goad her ex-lover into showing emotion. Another bump made her stagger just as Cortez hollered, "Hey, buckle up! This one's gonna be tight!" over his shoulder.

Shepard dropped into the jump-seat next to Liara, grabbed the harness, and strapped herself in. She spoke just loud enough to be heard above the rising din, "We are going to save Thessia."

Her tone belied confidence.

If Liara intended to reply, she was cut off by the clamor surrounding the shuttle as it dropped into the landing zone. James, always ready for action, was at the door, releasing the latches and shoving it open. Unbuckling herself, Shepard peeked out.

Thessia was burning. The once beautiful planet was in ruins. Shepard almost wished she could keep her memories of the pictures she had seen, rather than replace the images by the reality of what had become of Thessia.

Behind her, Liara let out an anguished gasp. Before Shepard could open her mouth to issue orders, Liara had shouldered past her and was half-stumbling, half-running down the embankment. Shepard watched as she lost her footing, landing on an elbow and skidding on her side. While she was still sliding, Liara somehow managed to use her momentum to push herself back up, her armour scraped and dirty from the rubble.

In a blink the asari disappeared from view.

"Where is she going?" James asked.

Shepard felt unfamiliar anguish wash over her. That was what Earth might look like by the time she finished running every other species' goddamned errands. She could sympathize with how Liara felt—she wanted nothing more than to get back to Earth and pitch herself into the battle there. Her hands balled into fists. "Keep her safe, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Ma'am."

"Let's move. We're exposed up here."

Picking their own way down through the debris, Shepard and James reached level, solid ground just as the blockade, holding the majority of reaper creatures at bay, was destroyed. Liara appeared, adding her biotics to a barrier held up by a lone, exhausted asari. James took up a position near her, lending his gun to the effort.

"You must be Commander Shepard!"

Shepard turned to see another asari striding towards her. This one had the haunted look of someone who had been forced into taking charge of a motley crew of insurgents. Meeting her half way, Shepard said, "Report?"

"I'm Lieutenant Kurin. We'll have to talk later. Can you man that gun up there? I'm short on soldiers."

"Of course," Shepard replied. Her hands, still clenched tight, itched at the idea of destroying just about anything. The weary asari managed to nod her thanks before taking a visibly deep breath, gathering what was left of her spent courage, and joining the defense.

· x ·

Shepard's arms ached; it was incredible how difficult it was to swing the gun along its radial axis, even given that it was partially-motorized. Soldiers usually worked mounted guns in teams of two to prevent fatigue and strain and so that they could guard one another from flanked attacks.

Shepard was glad of the discomfort though; it reminded her that she was not a machine

Few things physically exhausted her these days, but grueling combat was one of them. Removing her gloves and stepping away from the weapon, Shepard wiped sweat from her brow, a satisfied smile breaking over her face.

"Someone get me a location on our snipers," Lieutenant Kurin ordered one of the other asari as Shepard approached. She looked markedly worse than when the human had last seen her, sporting a gash just below her eye that seeped sapphire blood down her cheek. "My orders are to hold this grid at all costs, but our perimeter is collapsing. I'm getting my people out of here."

"This is important. We need your help."

"Unless you can give me a damn good reason to stay, we're not dying for a field of rubble."

"We're after a relic inside the temple."

"_That's_ what this is all about?" Kurin started walking toward a hovering gunship. "One of our outposts has been trying to reach the scientists over there, but we lost contact." She turned away from Shepard and barked, "Get that gunship out of here, _now_!"

As Kurin strode around, issuing more commands to those of her squad that remained, Shepard took a moment to survey the environment. Papers and other light debris whipped around her, as the gunship finally lifted off and roared away. She batted a stray paper away from her face and spotted Liara kneeling next to a wounded soldier, James standing nearby.

"I've lost enough people today," Kurin said, returning to Shepard. Although they were still some distance away, they could hear Liara speaking above the sounds of distant battles that raged on.

"_The lone night lies along your path, the dawn sleeps behind the shadowy hills. The stars hold their breath counting the hours, the feeble clouds swim the deep night._"

Something about the tightness in Liara's voice and her body language made Shepard's eyes narrow and she started towards where her team waited.

"_There is no hope, no fear for you. There is no word, no whisper, no cry. There is no home, no bed of rest,_" Liara recited as she stripped off her gloves, supporting herself by pressing the knuckles of one hand into the debris as she leaned forward and gently stroked the wounded asari's brow. "_There is only your own pair of wings and the pathless sky._"

Shepard watched as Liara tilted her head to the side to better hear the dying asari's whispers, and then planted a kiss on the brow where her fingers had been.

"_Though the evening comes with slow steps and has signaled for all songs to cease; though your companions have gone to their rest and you are tired; though fear broods in the dark and the face of the sky is veiled; that is not the gloom of the leaves of the forest, that is the sea swelling."_

In the firelight of chaos and destruction, Shepard could see the red-orange glow dancing and reflecting off tears glistening on Liara's cheeks.

"_Ah, where is the sunny green shore?"_

Liara fell silent. She struggled to her feet. Planting them firmly, she twisted her torso slightly to the side, and reached down to unclip her Predator.

Shepard felt her heartbeat kick up.

She began to run, but the distance was too great. All she could do was watch as Liara aimed the weapon.

A sharp intake of breath came from beside her and Shepard felt the familiar sensation of the hairs on the back of her neck rising, indicating the pull of energy that would be followed by the inevitable discharge of biotics. Kurin, running beside her, growled and a tiny blue ball of energy raced away, knocking Liara's hand just as she pulled the trigger, causing the bullet to fire astray.

The inattentive James jumped at the sound of the single shot. He was quick to assess the situation though, and before Liara could squeeze off another round, he had grabbed her wrist and twisted the gun out of her grip.

Kurin heaved Shepard out of the way to grab Liara by the back of her armour. She dragged the unresisting information broker several feet away from the wounded before tossing her to the ground. Liara landed on her backside, all of her breath escaping in a deep, forlorn rush.

"_What in Athame's name are you doing?_" Kurin demanded, looming over Liara with tight, angry fists. Liara bowed her head as she struggled to catch her breath, fat tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn't answer and didn't look up; she merely struggled silently.

"How _dare_ you!" Kurin shouted. "They're not going to die." The commando's tone implied she suspected otherwise, but was not ready to admit the truth. Shepard clamped a hand on Kurin's shoulder. The commando jerked away. "No one else is going to die under my command!" she cried, before lunging at Liara again.

Shepard stepped in front of Kurin and shoved her back. She pointed a finger in the asari's face, her expression warning the commando to back the fuck off. "_I_ will handle this," she growled.

Kurin clearly wanted to argue, but Shepard stared her down. Eventually, the commando strode furiously away. When Kurin had gone several paces, Shepard crouched down and hooked her finger beneath Liara's chin, tilting the asari's head so that they were looking at one another. Liara stared, unblinking.

"What was that?" Shepard asked softly.

Liara tried to turn her face away, but the commander caught it between both her hands. She spread her fingers wide over Liara's cheeks, her thumbs coming to rest high on her cheekbones beneath her eyes, catching—diverting—tears.

Finally Liara blinked and something broke. She sagged into Shepard's touch.

"She begged for mercy. It would have been a kindness."

"Liara—"

"I am all right. Please, just…" Feebly gripping Shepard's hands, she moved them away. Shepard stepped back to give her the space to stand.

"That's it; I'm pulling the rest of them out." Kurin returned, struggling to keep her voice even as she stared murderously at Liara.

"No!" Liara croaked as though her voice had abandoned her. She cleared her throat, scowling at Kurin. "If we do not get to that temple, this will be the last you see of Thessia. You are witnessing the extinction of our entire race.

_This is the end_."

· x ·

Author's Note: The poem Liara recites is by Rabindranath Tagore.


	30. Chapter 30

· x ·

The marauder's first round punched through Shepard's weakened shields. The second, barely slowed by her hardsuit, pierced her side. The pain of the impact sent her sprawling on the ground, avoiding the third, potentially fatal shot. Struggling to catch her breath, Shepard was too stunned to move. She knew that she only had a few seconds while the creature reloaded its weapon, but she couldn't think beyond the astonishing pain.

Gathering just enough of her wits, Shepard dug her heels frantically into the dirt, propelling herself behind an outcropping of ruins as multiple bullets thudded into the ground where she had been. Dragging herself into a sitting position, the commander felt blood spurt out of her wound, soaking her undershirt. Groaning through clenched teeth, she unclipped her breastplate just enough so that she could shove a hand inside and tightly press her palm against the wound. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the pain as she used her free hand to blindly grope in her utility belt for a packet of medigel.

Shepard realized the nearby staccato of gunshots was covering fire. James and Liara had finally caught up and were cleaning up the remaining marauders and ravagers. Eventually the only sounds that endured were distant gunfire and the bone-chilling trumpet of the reapers as they roamed Thessia.

Giving up on opening the packet with one hand, Shepard allowed her hand to drop to her side.

The sound of dirt pattering off the shin guards of her hardsuit caused Shepard to open her eyes just as Liara hunched down next to her. Some of the light had returned to the asari's eyes, alleviating the haunted look that had been present since they had discussed Thessia in the CIC of the Normandy. Shepard observed a tiny, satisfied smile appear on Liara's lips as she broke cover to dispatch a marauder that had been trying to flank them around the rubble. The smirk was uncharacteristic, but it made Shepard feel somewhat relieved. She was unaccustomed to the asari's indifference, finding it unnerving.

Liara seemed satisfied that they were not presently in any further danger and immediately tugged off her gloves before relieving Shepard of the medigel. She then reached beneath the commander's armour. The moment her fingers grazed the hand Shepard had been using to apply pressure, the human involuntarily flinched away.

Shifting so that she could kneel, Liara abandoned Shepard's wound in favor of removing the commander's helmet. Unclipping it, she pulled it from the soldier's head, setting it gently in the dirt next to them. Liara then swept sweaty locks of hair that had escaped Shepard's ponytail out of the woman's eyes, tucking them carefully behind her ears.

Now able to look into Shepard's pain-filled eyes, Liara studied her for a moment. Shepard thought she saw an expression of relief flit over the asari's face before vanishing.

"We cannot sit here until you are ready to do it yourself," Liara chided.

"Fine, fuck. Just a minute," Shepard said, looking around until she spotted James. "Lieutenant Vega!" The big marine came closer, his eyes dropping briefly to the stream of blood that had begun to leak from beneath Shepard's armour. "Continue to scout ahead." She lifted her free hand, indicating her wound. "Recon only. _Do not engage_."

He quickly looked back up, his eyes momentarily flashing concern. "Yes, Ma'am."

When he was gone, Shepard focused on Liara. "I'm fine. I just got the wind knocked outta me."

Pursing her lips, Liara narrowed her eyes, reaching beneath Shepard's armour again. When she pulled her fingers out, they were drenched in rich, red blood. She rubbed her coated fingers together, seeming mesmerized by the intense crimson contrasting her blue skin.

"Liara?"

"You are lying to me, Shepard."

"No, I swear it's superficial—" Shepard began, but stopped when Liara looked up, her eyes fiery and bright, brimming with emotion.

"I am not safer without you. Look around you, Muireall. Look at what they are doing to my world—to my people. I have nothing left. Nothing!" Liara wiped her fingers on her leg armour, leaving a bright smear.

Picking up the medigel pack again, Liara ripped it open. Shepard clenched her teeth and pulled her hand away from the wound so that she could access it. She watched Liara's hand tremble as the asari eased the pack beneath her breastplate and then icy relief quenched the burn.

As Liara was withdrawing, Shepard grabbed her. "There's still time to save Thessia."

"I am not a naïve maiden that has spent the last three years shaking her ass in some seedy bar!" Liara's eyes narrowed as she looked down at their linked hands. "I do not need reassurances, Shepard. And I would be thrice a fool if I believed that. What is happening here is no different from what happened on Palaven—what is happening on Earth."

Shepard said nothing. Liara was staring at their hands, a deep frown carving her cheeks.

"What I _need_ is for you to stop lying to me—stop lying to yourself," the asari said. She dropped Shepard's hand and picked up the commander's helmet. She held it out. "Will you allow us to complete this mission without you?"

"Not a chance in hell," Shepard growled as she slipped her helmet back on.

Her answer seemed to piss the asari off again. Liara was rigid as she stood up, but she surprised Shepard by offering to help her up as well. The commander thankfully accepted. Liara was right, of course. The wound was not superficial and it took all of her strength not to bark out in pain as she struggled up.

"I thank the Goddess every day that you are so stubborn," Liara muttered, her voice full of bitter sarcasm as she drew her Predator again and walked away, leaving Shepard alone.

The commander took a moment to snap her armour back together. The twisting motion required to reach some of the clasps was absolute agony. She groaned quietly, squeezing her eyes shut, thankful that her helmet hid streaming tears.

She would need to complete this mission driven by sheer determination alone. She knew the risks of leaving her wound unattended. Medigel was marvelous stuff, but in this case it would barely serve to hold her together. She wasn't even sure that the Cerberus nanites would be much help, especially considering her body was rejecting the little fuckers anyway.

Shepard had never worried about injuries before—never cared whether she lived or died. In fact, subconsciously she approached every mission, every encounter, as a means to her own demise. But somehow, something had shifted within her. There was a spot of brightness that she had avidly ignored. She found, much to her chagrin that she couldn't ignore it anymore—didn't want to.

She had begun to question her decision to protect Liara. She had watched the asari decline. Liara became more reclusive. She slept even less, and was becoming far more aggressive than Shepard had ever seen her. The young asari had always handled loss well and Shepard had mistakenly assumed that Liara might also secretly be relieved to be rid of the burden of their 'relationship'. She hadn't actually thought that Liara's love was genuine—hadn't really_ believed_ Liara even when she proclaimed as much.

Shepard wandered, slipping from cover to cover, trying to catch up with her team, one hand firmly pressed to her side, the other gripping her pistol. The added pressure relieved some of the pain, but not enough to stop the steady stream of sweat from dripping down her face as her body dealt with distress.

If she managed to survive this mission, Shepard decided that she would follow Tali's advice. She hadn't been prepared for the yawning chasm that Liara's absence created within her. She hadn't experienced anything like it since Aislyn's death so long ago. The vulnerability she felt as a result frightened her, yet somehow it was… bracing.

She had never been able to rely on anyone else before. She wondered if she could get over herself long enough to trust the asari implicitly.

She doubted it.

· x ·


	31. Chapter 31

Samantha Traynor sat in the mess hall idly playing with a lump of uneaten oatmeal. Her spoon clattered against the side of the bowl as she tried to unstick the supposedly edible substance. She had lost her appetite shortly after the crew had been ordered back to the Normandy. One of the worst hangovers she had ever experienced had robbed her of the desire to eat, but realizing where they were headed hadn't made her feel any better.

Thessia made her think of Liara. She didn't want to think about the asari. A surprisingly large, very opportunistic part of her knew she had missed a chance that would never present itself again. The rest of her, the part she relied on to keep her from doing monumentally stupid things, tried to remind her that she had made the right decision.

Nothing good would have resulted from having sex with the rebounding asari. Samantha cringed at the thought, but it was the truth; whatever Samantha wanted Liara to feel—and no matter what the asari's actions had sometimes seemed to imply—it would likely never be reality.

The elevator doors opened, distracting Samantha from her thoughts. Lieutenant Vega hustled around the corner with a troubled expression on his face. A significant amount of people were in the mess hall trying to wolf down breakfast before their shifts began; all of them stopped what they were doing and stared.

Liara followed James, protectively cradling the commander in her arms. The specialist felt hollow as she observed. The asari looked fierce, as though daring anyone to get in her way as she strode towards the medbay. Acting as a buffer, James rushed ahead, solemnly shaking his head at anyone who approached with the intention of relieving Liara of her burden.

As they passed her table, Samantha pushed her chair back and stood up. Without thinking, she took a step forward, briefly drawing Liara's attention. Blue eyes, hard and clear, lifted to meet her gaze. Liara inclined her head almost imperceptibly, barely acknowledging Samantha's presence before she returned her attention to carefully navigating through the medbay doors.

Traynor walked to the window, stopping next to James who had turned his back to the doors, and was standing with his massive arms crossed over his chest, guarding against entry. Ignoring him, Samantha stared through the window at Liara, who was wreathed in a thin sheen of biotic energy. She seemed to be arguing with Chakwas—at least, both women were speaking animatedly. Finally, Chakwas seemed to threaten Liara with something, and the asari threw up her arms and stormed away.

Samantha reached out and tugged James toward her so that he would not be in the way when Liara barrelled through. Standing shoulder to shoulder they watched the indignant asari disappear.

"Why was Liara carrying her?" Samantha asked.

"Stubborn asari wouldn't let the med team have her."

Samantha smothered a small gasp. "What happened?"

"She took a round. It was pretty bad—looked like it could have hit her kidney, which _might_ have been fine if we'd evacuated right away, but Blue couldn't convince her to stop." His face drew tight with anger. "And then that Cerberus _cabrón_ showed up and wiped the floor with all our asses, stealing the one piece of intelligence that could end this war."

Samantha felt sick to her stomach, immediately grateful that she'd only played with her food. "Oh no," she breathed, grabbing James' arm again to steady herself.

"That's not all," James said. "Turns out that the asari goddess, Athame, was actually only the Protheans influencing primitive asari cultures."

Samantha's heart sank. It had to be too much all at once; Shepard's life hanging by a thread, Liara's belief system crumbling to pieces, the loss of crucial data. If it were Sam, _she'd_ be hurting and confused. Liara was _already_ hurting and confused; everything must have been so much worse for the asari.

"I, uhm—"

Their gazes locked, she could see her concern mirrored in his eyes.

"She needs _somebody_."

· x ·

Samantha didn't ask permission to enter Liara's quarters. Whether the asari had forgotten to engage the locks, or EDI had disengaged them, Samantha was admitted immediately. She carried an energy bar and a bottle of water. It was unlikely that Liara would want to eat, but Sam thought she might be able to persuade her if the items were readily available.

Carrying the food hid the fact that her hands were sweaty. She couldn't keep her feet from feeling numb. They had not parted company on the… _best_ of terms, and Samantha was unsure how Liara would react to her presence.

Hesitantly stepping over the threshold, she bowed her head when she noticed Liara sitting in the middle of her bed, surrounded by datapads. The asari seemed to have become distracted after changing into a navy t-shirt because she was still wearing the pants of her light armour, smeared with dirt, dust, and… was that blood?

Samantha shivered, feeling decidedly out of place. Putting the food down next to one of Liara's enormous monitors, she swallowed hard and slowly approached the asari.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Samantha studied the data pads; it was easier than looking at Liara. Each pad streamed vast amounts of data at speeds impossible for anyone to comprehend. Clearly, Liara was attempting to bury herself in work so no other thoughts could fester in her mind.

"What do you want, Specialist?"

Liara's tone felt like a slap, cold and brutal.

Samantha stepped back.

"N-nothing." She should probably just leave. Liara obviously did not want her there anyway. "I thought maybe you could use some company."

Liara let out a bitter chuckle. "No peppermint tea?" An aberrant, mocking grin warped her face. "Shepard reaped the benefits last time."

Samantha felt as though Liara had stabbed her with a rusty knife. "Why are you being _cruel?"_

Liara's cheeks flushed purple. "The universe is cruel, Specialist. You should not need me to tell you that."

The asari surged to her feet and advanced on Sam, the air beginning to prickle the specialist's skin as Liara's biotics rippled into existence. "What? Did you expect me to cry on your shoulder because Shepard may be dying and my homeworld is in ruins?" Liara shoved past her into the middle of the office and began to pace, obviously struggling to regain self-control. As she walked, her biotics fizzled.

The war was destroying everything that was sacred and good. Liara was becoming embittered and twisted right before her eyes. Thessia's loss and Shepard's precarious condition eroded morale. Samantha herself could not help but be swept up and carried away by the poisonous riptide rushing through the Normandy as more and more people began to lose hope.

After a few deep breaths, the specialist trusted herself to speak calmly. "I brought you some food. It's just there." She pointed. When Liara made no response, Sam shook her head and attempted to walk past.

As she neared, Liara grabbed her arm, jerking her to a halt. Samantha felt her self-control slip as she wrenched herself away. "Keep your hands off me!" She glared at Liara who evaluated her like pathetic entertainment. Samantha made tight fists with her hands, fingernails biting into the flesh of her palms.

"I forgot; _that_ privilege is reserved for Shepard," Liara said, antagonizing her further by pushing her shoulder.

"Please don't," Sam cautioned through tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh, right." Ignoring the warning, Liara seized Samantha by her wrists and maneuvered her against the wall, pinning her arms above her head. The asari's breath tickled her ear as she leaned close and whispered, "You like it better like this, do you not?"

Frustration coalesced into a vivid, red rage and Samantha's fastidious control finally snapped. Furious, she broke away from the asari, seized Liara by the collar, spun her around and shoved her back against the wall. She grabbed Liara's chin with one hand, her thumb and fingers digging brutally into soft, blue cheeks. Her other hand remained fisted in the asari's shirt. Liara's eyes widened with shock, but Samantha finally had her attention.

_All of it._

"I am so _sick and tired_ of everyone thinking they can walk all over me—that I'll bend over backwards for their every bloody whim." Her accent thickened as she allowed fury to corrode reason away. "I've always known what Shepard means to you, Liara. You've made that abundantly clear. And then when you showed up offering me what I so desperately wanted and I realized you were just looking for—for a rebound…_ fuck," _she spat the filthy word,_ "_can you imagine how that made me feel?_" _

Samantha's chest heaved, her whole body aching with tension. "You can't. You can't because you've never thought about me at all!" She drew a ragged breath, her voice dropping to a callused whisper. "I _believed_ that you were another victim of Shepard's, trapped like everyone else by the fallout. But now—now I realize you deserve her! You're nothing but a counterfeit like your goddess!"

Samantha crushed her mouth against Liara's savagely, a primal exchange of feelings that went beyond words. Liara's lips were hot and moist, but they couldn't quench the agony. The bittersweet tang of alien blood touched Samantha's tongue as she sucked Liara's lower lip between her teeth and bit down just hard enough to draw it.

Her fingers shook as she shoved Liara's face to the side, momentarily breaking their connection in order to grasp the asari's shirt. Knuckles grazing scorching skin, she dragged the garment up. Liara lifted her arms, helping Samantha who was frantically trying to disentangle the shirt when it snagged on her crests. As soon as the shirt hit the floor, Liara surged forward, burying her hand in Samantha's hair and dragging her into another intense kiss.

They struggled against one another; Samantha scrabbling wildly to unfasten the asari's pants while Liara levered them away from the wall, into the center of the stateroom. Sam managed to undo the button just as Liara, with the assistance of her biotics, shredded the specialist's uniform jacket until it hung in ribbons from her arms.

With a small grunt of effort, Liara grasped Sam's backside and lifted her clear off the ground. The specialist wrapped her legs around Liara's waist as the asari carried her over to the desk. Liara slid the human up onto it, displacing one of the monitors, a myriad of data pads, and sending the energy bar and bottle of water Sam had brought careening to the ground.

Samantha leaned back on her palms long enough to allow Liara to undo her pants, lifting herself so the asari could slide them down, before rising to recapture Liara's lips. She grasped the asari's hips, jerking her forward so that she could reach between them with one hand. Liara broke the kiss with a sharp shake of her head, snatching Samantha's hand to direct it to the back of her neck, beneath her crests.

Feeling the delicate swell of ridges hidden there, the specialist suddenly understood. She had refrained from researching asari physiology, stubbornly refusing to entertain the notion of ever having the chance to sleep with one. As soon as her fingertips touched the spot, Liara moaned and arched forward.

A flurry of motion followed, both suddenly locked in a frantic fight for dominance. Liara crudely shoved Samantha's underwear aside, plunging her fingers unceremoniously into her while Samantha dug the fingernails of her free hand sharply into the hard, flexing muscles of Liara's shoulder blade. Samantha closed her eyes, biting her tongue to keep from making any sort of pleasured noise as she desperately tried to figure out what she needed to do to get Liara off. She was rapidly losing herself to Liara's touch and if that happened, the game would be lost.

"Please pardon the interruption, Dr. T'Soni."

Samantha's eyes snapped open. Liara's little information drone hovered a foot away from their faces. They immediately stopped moving, the sudden stillness breaking whatever spell they'd been under. Liara withdrew, taking several steps back.

Ignoring Samantha, she refastened her pants and addressed the drone, "What is it, Glyph?"

"Lieutenant Vega is outside the door. He seeks entry, citing that he is to fetch you to the medical facility. The commander is awake and requesting your presence."

Samantha struggled to slide off the desk, her legs wobbly as she found her footing. She jerked her pants up, watching Liara stride quickly to the other side of her room to grab the jacket of her light armour and hurriedly shrug into it. Fastening it almost completely, Liara made her way to the door, stooping along the way to snag the shirt she'd been wearing off the floor. With one last, forlorn look at Samantha, she tossed the shirt at her, waiting only long enough for her to pull it over head before keying open the door and disappearing.

Overwhelmed by crushing emotion, Sam sagged to her knees and wrapped her arms around herself, staring hollowly at the mesmerizing, spinning info drone as tears slid helplessly down her face.

· x ·

_Auhtor's Note_: Three people suffered through the torturous creation of this chapter. And I mean **_suffered_. ** Sirrocco, Logical Premise and Midnight Lion, please accept my most sincere gratitude! Oh, and welcome back cc!


	32. Chapter 32

Shepard had been asleep.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Liara standing by the door, staring at the floor. The asari rubbed her thumb over her index and middle fingers. She seemed to be lost in haunted thoughts. Her eyes were glossy, and her mouth was inlaid with grim lines. Eventually, she made a tight fist and firmly pressed it against her leg, the troubled look nearly disappearing from her face. Choosing that moment to look up, Liara caught Shepard staring at her.

The asari's vulnerabilities had always been obvious to Shepard because she was accustomed to making snap judgments. She had never suspected that Liara might be practiced at divorcing herself from her emotions. Witnessing it now—the way Liara's face easily became expressionless, the subtle straightening of her posture—Shepard realized that Liara had always _allowed_ herself to be an open book.

Shepard's mouth was too dry to speak; she had to swallow a few times. "You're here," she finally managed. "I wasn't sure if you would come."

Liara crossed her arms across her chest. "Of course I would, Shepard."

"Look, I—I know that an apology from me would only sound like… lip service."

"Then do not speak. Listen." She grabbed Chakwas' chair and wheeled it next to Shepard's bed, then slowly lowered herself into it. "I have just attended to the destruction of one of the remaining good things in my life, Shepard."

Shepard remained silent, watching the asari intently. She had known that the loss of Thessia would weigh heavily on Liara—that she would have to find it within herself to try to help her cope. Liara seemed to sag as she leaned forward, perhaps too exhausted to maintain her emotionless façade. Placing her elbows on her knees, Liara pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. "I am an idiot!"

"No, Liara." Struggling to roll on to her side and lean forward, ignoring the stab of pain that was barely dulled by Chakwas' liberal application of analgesics, Shepard managed to pull Liara's hands away, so that she could see the anguish painted over her features.

Liara looked up, her eyes shining and her teeth clenched angrily. "Yes!" She jerked away. "The Shadow Brok—the yahg had a few very obscure files regarding Thessia, Shepard. They were well hidden within the network, but I found them. I found them and I _ignored_ them. Do you know why? Because I did not want to believe that the asari matriarchs—that my own mother!—would keep something so—so _crucial_ a secret. My pride… my belief in the goodness of the asari, in their… _superiority_… blinded me. If I had trusted the intelligence, or at the very least looked into it, this war might be ending by now. I might have saved Thessia—saved Earth!"

Shepard eased back. She struggled against a surge of anger. "You knew about the prothean influence on the asari?"

"Let us just call it a suspicion." Liara launched herself out of the chair before shoving it irritably away.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Liara let out a bitter laugh, rounding on Shepard. "We have not been… communicating well. In fact, I think it would be safe to say that we never really have. Why should this be any different?"

"Goddamn it, Liara. This is a big fucking deal!"

"Are you going to tell me that you have never made a mistake?"

"It's not the same thing!"

"How is it not? I made the best decision I could based on limited data."

"You just admitted that you let your pride cloud your judgment! You have access to information that no one else in the galaxy could ever dream of having. You have a responsibility—"

"Do you think I do not _know_ that? Do you have any idea how staggering the weight of all this is?"

Shepard's anger deflated at Liara's defeated tone, replaced by the feelings of failure and regret that she had been struggling with since she had awoken in the medbay. "I might," she whispered. "I just might."

Liara sighed miserably. "I knew that if anyone could understand it would be you." She approached Shepard, reached out and took her hand. "I have not been handling things well. Not since… not since you told me you did not want to be with me."

"Liara… about that… I, uh, I know I don't have any right…" Shepard trailed off and looked away. She struggled to ask Liara for what she wanted. The words stuck in her throat.

"What?"

"I want to be better, Liara. For you. I need—if you're willing… I want—_Damn_ it! I _do_ want to be with you." Shepard took a shuddering breath, squeezing Liara's hand tighter. "Please," she begged. "Please. I need you. I—I _love_ you."

Shepard watched Liara's face blanch. "Goddess… No…" Liara took a step away, withdrawing from Shepard's touch. "Why now?"

"What do you mean? I… I'm an asshole, I know, Liara. But it took time for me to realize that you are the only thing that means anything in my miserable excuse of a life."

"Muireall, no."

"It's okay, I don't deserve another chance, I know that… I just—I had to tell you. In case… you know…"

"Do not do this. Do not draw me close with your promises so that you may slip the noose around my neck. I cannot take it when you pretend that you care."

"I am not pretending, Liara. I know this is real because it _hurts_ me. This pain… it's how I know I'm not dead… it makes me want to live." Shepard lowered her voice. "I haven't wanted that since Aislyn died."

"No." Liara put up her hands, backing further away. She was not listening. "I have done things, Shepard, unforgivable things. You would not understand."

Liara was close to the door and Shepard sensed she was about to lose her chance. If she did not succeed at convincing Liara now, she would likely not be given another chance.

"You have no reason to believe me, Liara," she said as she struggled to sit up. She pressed her hand to her side and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out in pain as she slowly shifted herself off the bed. She gained her feet, but had to lean heavily against the bed for support. She felt dizzy from the drugs and her legs were weak, but she refused to fall. "After how I've treated you, I don't really blame you, but I promise whatever it is… whatever you've done, it will be okay. I will… I will make it okay. Just… just help me understand."

Liara looked up, her eyes blazing. "Shepard, I have become just like you."

Eyes narrowing in confusion, Shepard asked, "What do you mean?"

"I have been manipulative and cruel. I have taken the things I want with little regard to the consequences. I have done these things and more and I feel _nothing_. Nothing! Do you understand now?" Liara took a deep breath, her eyes darkening.

Shepard hesitated for only a moment before saying, "That's bullshit. You're hurting. You may have lashed out at the ones you care about, but I refuse to believe a century of kindness and honor can be unraveled so quickly. I know that you are stronger than that, Liara."

"You do not know anything," Liara hissed.

"I watched my sister starve to death because we had to live in a rat infested, disgusting fleapit on Earth." Shepard's chest tightened. She had never told anyone the story of what had happened to her sister. She could not stop now, even if she wanted to, because the first words had broken the dam and the rest of the tale surged over. "I pinched grub whenever I could, but in the winter months street vendors would disappear. So, I whored for the Reds, but my cut was only enough to buy food for one of us. I fucking starved so that she could eat, but in the end it didn't matter. She died in my arms, cold and frail and sick." Shepard ached from the memory. "I promised I would keep her safe!"

Shepard's chest rapidly rose and fell as she struggled not to be drawn back into the grief. "You are nothing like me, Liara," she whispered. "It takes a lifetime of slogging through shit to become what I am, but you—I had to get beyond my own crap to see it—you represent all that is good in the universe. Your compassion, your patience… your—your capacity to forgive… they're all qualities I want to fight for because… I do not possess them."

The commander dragged a shaky hand through her hair. She had begun to sweat and the pain was bleeding through the drugs. "Be strong just a little bit longer. I swear to you I will destroy those Cerberus fuckers and we will get that intelligence back. We are still in this and I will not give up. Look, I know it's not fair to you, but I need you by my side. _Please?_"

Liara closed her eyes as she began to tremble. "I am so tired," she whispered.

Shepard stubbornly put one foot in front of other, ignoring the pain, moving towards Liara. "I know."

"I have already promised I will always be here for you, Shepard."

Shepard nodded. "I know." She gripped the asari by the shoulders. When Liara opened her eyes, they were full of pain, regret, and immeasurable exhaustion. Shepard had very little of her own strength left, but she moved her hands to the back of Liara's neck, tugging her down so that she could delicately, reassuringly capture her lips.

· x ·

_Author's Note_: While this one was _much_ easier to write, it would still not be what it is without Midnight Lion's assistance. Thanks, as always to ML!


	33. Chapter 33

Blowing her nose into a scrap of her destroyed Alliance tunic proved difficult when trying to stay perfectly still. If she moved too much, Liara's spicy, sweet scent wafted off the shirt she was wearing, throwing Samantha's emotions into chaos. The smell made a vast part of the specialist's brain—which still yearned for the feeling of the asari's fingers inside her—think of what it would be like to make Liara sweat while screaming her name. That part, thank heavens, was rapidly dwindling as she drew her knees up to her chest, trying valiantly to keep from spiraling into despair.

Knowing that she had no one to blame but herself for her current predicament, Samantha tried with all her might to find the strength to stand and exit Liara's quarters. Locating a dank hole to crawl into and die seemed the only reasonable course of action at this point; if only Traynor could bring herself to leave. She quickly realized that she didn't have the guts to hold her head up high enough to walk through the mess hall with red, puffy eyes and a snotty nose, while wearing Liara's shirt—her own shredded tunic, clear evidence of what had happened, in hand.

Sam barely managed to fire up her omni to beg one of the yeomen to cover her shift, for which she was already twenty minutes late. She had been forced to make lofty promises to the woman, including a dinner date on the Citadel next time they docked, which led Samantha to believe her tone had been convincingly normal. But the very thought of a date made her sick.

At this point, thinking at all made Traynor sick.

How? How had she let Liara provoke her to this? Never in her life had she physically attacked anyone. Never had it turned into a struggle for sexual dominance. Never had she taken out her frustration—acted on her desires in such an inexcusable way.

The war had changed everyone; none of them for the better.

Sitting on the floor, Samantha rested her chin on her knees and stared blankly at the monitors, watching as billions of lines of streaming information blurrily whizzed by. A window in the corner of one of the monitors displayed an ANN feed, a ticker at the bottom urging people to seek haven at Sanctuary instead of the overrun Citadel. Traynor smiled a little at the thought that the people of her homeworld, Horizon, were making an effort to help the refugees of war.

She sniffled, a long dragged out 'feeling sorry for herself' kind of whinge that would have made anyone roll their eyes at the campy nature of it. The notion made her giggle, which in turn reminded her that she was losing her damned mind. But at least her tears were drying and the knots in her stomach were easing. She swiped at her nose one last time with a bit of shirt, before pushing herself to her feet. Tearing the dirty section from her tunic, Samantha shoved it deep into the pocket of her pants, and then proceeded to fold the remnants into a neat little pile. She put the bundle on Liara's desk next to the bottle of water and energy bar she had retrieved from the floor.

Making a conscious decision to appear perfectly poised as she left Liara's room, Sam keyed open the door and stepped out. Thankfully the mess hall had emptied—the morning rush for grub having abated. Traynor glanced around, determining that she could safely scuttle somewhere a little more private without too much embarrassment.

"Hey, Rook!" Samantha jumped at the sound of James' voice. "What the…? Oh no… No, she didn't!"

Pushing himself off the wall next to Liara's cabin—Samantha had missed him in her cursory sweep of the mess because she'd been focusing on the tables—Vega stomped over to stand in front of her, a look of ire splashed over his features.

"Whatever are you talking about, James?" Sam said, keeping her voice as steady as she could possibly make it—which was evidently not at all, given how Vega was angrily shaking his head. He reached out and tapped the collar of her shirt. It felt cold and wet the moment it contacted her skin. She realized that her tears had run down and soaked into it. Then he smoothed her hair, an unruly post-coital mess.

Renewed shame burned Samantha's cheeks, a familiar sting returning to her eyes. She tried to hide her face, stepping away with the intention of trying to scurry back into Liara's quarters. James, however, had other ideas, bless his gigantic heart. He grabbed Samantha and crushed her to his broad chest. Surprised to welcome such a burly embrace, she pressed her face into the soft material of his t-shirt and gave herself over to the tears once more.

"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured. She felt him shift a little and realized he was motioning someone else over. Before she could protest, he was hollering, "Yo, Rowan! Get your ass over here."

Rowan? Who the heck was Rowan? Oh, rowan… mountain ash… Ashley. It was definitely one of the more clever nicknames James had come up with. Sure beat Lola—and definitely beat Blue, hands down. She lifted her head just in time to see the Spectre wending her way between the mess tables with a puzzled look on her face.

"What, Vega? I'm hungry." She yawned. "I've been up all night inspecting the weaponry. I need breakfast, maybe some of that swill that passes for coffee."

"You look like you want some cocoa," he prodded, "like Irish, maybe."

"Are you kidding? It's oh-eight hundred in the morn—Oh! Hot chocolate, yeah," Ashley said, taking one look at Traynor's puffy eyes and red nose. "For sure! That I can do."

"Nice! You two go, I'll catch up."

For some reason, Sam did not like the underlying tone in his voice, but she allowed Ashley to take her by the shoulders and direct her away from the enormous soldier. It was a good thing Ash was navigating because Traynor was well beyond the capacity to think.

· x ·

Liara stepped off the elevator into the shuttle bay. It was unusually dark, but a cursory glance to her right confirmed that Cortez was not yet at his usual station. She was thankful for that because it spared her from having to make friendly conversation. She was not in the mood for friendly conversation. She was hungry and completely spent and she needed… to find somewhere she could lick her wounds in private.

"I asked him to step out before I sent you that message." James Vega's voice boomed through the immense space, startling her. "It's just you and me, Blue. We're gonna have a little discussion." He walked out of the gloom into a thin sliver of light projected by the emergency lighting that illuminated the space.

He spread his arms wide and turned in a circle. "Lola and I dance down here sometimes. I'm man enough to admit that _she_ can beat the snot out of me on a bad day."

Liara stiffened. She did not like the soldier's tone, or that he was reminiscing about fighting with Shepard. "What do you want, Lieutenant?"

"Wanna pick on someone your own size, Doc?"

Exhaustedly pinching the bridge of her nose, Liara narrowed her eyes. "I am not sure I know what you are referring to."

"I asked you to watch out for Specialist Traynor."

A pang of guilt speared her. "She is a grown woman; she can take care of herself."

"You can tell yourself whatever you want, Doc… but I saw the aftermath of whatever you did to her. It wasn't pretty."

"_That_ is none of your business, Lieutenant. Whatever happens between Traynor and I is _not_ your concern."

James let out a bark of derisive laughter. "Oh, that's an interesting sentiment considering the source." He took a step toward her. "I see things, Blue. People think I'm just some big dumb marine, so they're not afraid to be themselves around me. I know the specialist has been mackin' on you something huge."

Liara blinked. She had _hurt_ Traynor in order to feel anything other than numb, but she'd been startled when the specialist had fought back and had let things go further than she had intended, following the human's lead.

She drew her shoulders back and lifted her head until her chin jutted defiantly, meeting James' steely gaze. "I am not having this discussion with you."

"Look, T'Soni, I get that some pretty horrible shit went down on Thessia… but Rook's got nothing to do with that. She genuinely cares about you. I'm guessing that's more than you can say about most people right now."

"I did not ask for her affection," Liara bristled.

"God only knows how you ended up with it."

Liara's patience was wearing thin. They stared at one another for a long time before she finally asked, "Are we done here?"

James' lip curled. "Sure, Blue, but I'm watching you. Leave Samantha the hell alone. If you step out of line again we'll be doing more than chatting—I don't give a shit who your girlfriend is, comprende?"

· x ·


	34. Chapter 34

Shepard jerked awake, immediately disoriented. This place, the smell… the softness of the bed, it was all different.

_Wrong. _

It was all wrong; the clean, haunting tones of the piano straining up the stairs most of all. She reached for the gun she kept beside the bed, remembering in a rush where she was and why she was there: Anderson's apartment, gifted to her as a place to recuperate from her injuries.

A place to call home. She'd never had that before. Ever.

Trust came with some difficulty to Shepard. She felt more comfortable with her weapon in hand. Still, she realized that such a lovely, melancholy sound could not be created by anyone intending her physical harm.

She paused at the top of the stairs to listen, detecting the slightest falter at the keys as though the pianist were trying to remember the next note. As playing resumed, Shepard took her time descending, picking her way through the apartment to the peek around the corner at the piano and its master. She listened, her heart in her throat, and watched as Liara's long, slender fingers gracefully manipulated all the pain in the universe, making it palpable and concise.

"Liara," Shepard breathed, the word escaping her lips before she could think not to speak.

The asari stiffened, her fingers curling on the keys with a terrible crash. Shepard unintentionally tightened her grip on the pistol, her knuckles going red as tension filled the vacuum of silence. Sliding from the bench and scrambling to her feet, revealing a small bundle on the top of the piano, Liara turned to her.

The pause Shepard had heard was not an innocent fumble of forgotten keys. It had been an intermission used to wipe away tears; Liara's face was streaked with them.

"What's going on?" Shepard asked, eyeing the bundle again—the bundle that looked suspiciously like a ruined Alliance tunic.

Liara's gaze twitched to the gun. "I need to tell you something."

The tunic could only belong to one person. "You fucked her."

Intense, terrified blue eyes searched hers. Liara nodded.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Liara!" The words came out in an infuriated rush as Shepard's chest tightened. She searched Liara's face, the panic so completely evident in the asari's beautiful blue eyes—eyes that were focused on the barrel of the gun aimed squarely at her chest.

If Shepard thought she had ever experienced rage before, she'd thought wrong. The blistering ire that bubbled to the surface burned hot and bright, which left her cold. Speechless. Empty. Shepard knew that this, _this_ was what emotional devastation felt like.

Liara, however, did not move to defend herself. When she spoke her words were an anguished, pleading whisper, "You said you would make it okay."

Everything within Shepard stilled to a vivid calm. She wouldn't remember the words she spoke. "Do you love her?"

"No!" Liara's answer was too quick, too definitive. She blinked, her face crumbling. "I—I do not know."

A gravelly noise emerged from Shepard's lips. She lowered the gun and lurched toward the piano, picking up the scrap of material. She slammed the gun down, forcing her fingers to release it exactly where the shirt had been.

The danger of it was too great.

Approaching Liara, she whipped the bundle at her. Eyes bright and features fearful, Liara caught it, her fingers trembling. Her mouth opened to speak, but Shepard would not hear her voice, _could not_, knowing that she would snap and do something terrible.

She jerked away and spoke before Liara could. "Go," she said, her body vibrating with the effort to keep her rage at bay. "Find out."

· x ·

She was not far away, barely hidden, performing surveillance at an amateur level unworthy of the Shadow Broker.

Three of them sat together at one of the outdoor tables at the Apollo Café. As Liara watched, Ashley's face registered surprise. She was more amused than Samantha by James' news, which became clear when she chuckled and said, "You threatened Liara for Sammy?" She nudged the specialist's arm with her elbow. "That's cute!"

James' eyes shifted from Samantha to Ashley. He shrugged and offered a bashful grin. "Not a fan of bullies."

Liara frowned. It was an unexpected, yet entirely apt, description of her behavior of late.

"You sure you wouldn't poop in your tighty whiteys if she got a hold of you?" Ashley laughed, and then lowered the timbre of her voice to an approximation of James'. "'You shoulda seen her, Rowan, I swear she could shred an army of geth single-handedly without even batting an eye!'" She grinned. "Isn't that what you said to me after Rannoch?"

James smiled at Ashley's ribbing. "Okay… _that_ might have been an embellishment. Seriously, though, I'm not afraid of her."

As they bantered, Liara watched the colour drain from Samantha's face, though her eyes blazed with fire. Her hands, hidden beneath the table on her lap, bunched into fists. The specialist was staring daggers at the huge marine across from her. Liara was sure that if looks could kill, James would have perished in the most awful way imaginable.

Ashley sat back, a smirk on her face, purposely goading the lieutenant. "I've seen her in action, too, Vega. I'd be afraid. _Very_ afraid." She trembled exaggeratedly to demonstrate fictitious fear.

Sam mumbled something. The marines continued to ignore her until the specialist grabbed the datapad that had been sitting on the table next to her forgotten beverage, scraped her chair back and abruptly stood up.

They both looked at her.

"It wasn't any of your business."

"C'mon, Rook, I was just looking out for you," James said, grabbing her wrist and squeezing affectionately.

"You made assumptions about things that weren't yours to make."

Ashley, who had the sense to look ashamed to have been making light of the situation, nodded her head. "She has a point."

"I think I'm gonna go. I have to check into some things." Samantha shrugged away from James. Liara thought the specialist's expression was melancholy as she stared at a scorch mark on the floor in the furthest corner of the café, near the vending machines. "I'll see you guys later, maybe," she said.

Liara wondered at the last word, but she didn't have time to think about it because Samantha was headed her way, her head bowed and feet shuffling. Liara ducked back around the corner, and then quickly jogged a few feet away to hide in an entranceway of a shop, likely irreparably damaged by the Cerberus attack and subsequently abandoned.

She waited a few beats for Samantha to trudge by. As soon as the woman appeared, Liara stepped out in front of her.

Samantha came to an abrupt halt, her eyes flashing angrily.

"I thought we might speak," Liara said.

"I have nothing to say to you." She took a step to the side in an attempt to go around, but Liara put out an arm, blocking her path. The specialist hastily moved back as though the very thought of touching Liara would burn her. She didn't try to pass Liara again; she merely stood staring at a spot on the ground, clutching her data pad so tightly that Liara thought she might snap it.

"I need to know where we stand."

"I don't care what _you _need."

"At least let me apologize."

Sam looked up. "I'm not… entirely innocent, Liara, so let's just forget about this. Us. Our friendship. Whatever this is." Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "_Was._"

Liara evaluated the expression on the specialist's face. For a fleeting moment, the look suggested she wanted anything other than what she was suggesting, but it disappeared to be replaced with a cold, perfected calm.

The human stepped around her again. This time she paused long enough to hold her data pad out to Liara. Puzzled, the asari grasped it and Sam smiled sadly. "I'm going to ask Shepard if I can transfer off the Normandy; shouldn't be a problem since I'm not part of the ground crew. I can work from anywhere. I think maybe I'll take my chances at Sanctuary."

Liara looked down at the flashing advertisement on the data pad. Samantha had obviously been doing research. She felt a hollow blossoming in her chest. "I do not want to lose—" Liara caught herself, took a deep breath and drew up straight. "We will be sorry to lose your skills."

Sam scoffed, said, "Why don't you just set Glyph up at my station? He's pretty enough," and walked away.

· x ·

_Author's Note_: As usual, many thanks to Midnight Lion for checking this over and making sure it's worthy of the masses. Thanks to those of you who continue to follow and take the time to leave reviews.


	35. Chapter 35

Tali'Zorah always arrived at humility first, thereby allowing her to eventually find forgiveness.

For that reason, Tali found herself standing outside Shepard's new apartment. Shifting from one foot to the other, she waited for the commander to open the door. Her arms were weary from the awkward-shaped package she had carried all the way from the Zakera Ward. She could have taken the rapid transit, but she'd wanted to walk because she'd always enjoyed the sights and sounds of the Citadel. Even though the package wasn't heavy, she would be thankful to put it down.

She had almost given up waiting when the door finally beeped and slid open. She stepped over the threshold and very nearly gasped at the grandeur of the open concept apartment. Shepard's Admiral Anderson had done very well for himself, indeed. Tali recalled his kindness. The man had been vastly indifferent to the stereotypes attached to quarians. He had treated her with respect, something she had rarely experienced in the early stages of her pilgrimage. She knew that he was still on Earth, leading the resistance against the reapers. She hoped that he was still holding out.

Forgetting herself, in her surveillance of the apartment, Tali noticed a grand piano of to the left and gravitated toward it. She had heard human piano music before and had always found it soulfully profound. This piano was damaged however. Near it she noticed what must have been the bench. It was splintered and broken, but the pieces were stacked neatly against the wall. The piano itself was ruined and she doubted it would ever make music again—for which she felt a pang of grief. The beautiful black finish was spectacularly marred with deep gouges and missing chunks. The gorgeous ivory keys were broken and scattered loosely within the keyboard.

Setting her package down on the lid, Tali ran a hand along the surface. She could feel the bumps and nicks through her glove. She frowned and tipped the fall down so that it would cover the desolate array of keys. She bowed her head, shaking it sadly as she wondered why someone would destroy something of such beauty.

"Hey."

Tali quickly turned around, a hand flying to her chest in fright. "Shepard! You scared me."

"Sorry. It takes me a while to get around these days," Shepard said. Tali noticed that the woman moved slightly hunched, a hand pressed to her side.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Doctor Chakwas said you were on the mend… I thought it would be okay to visit."

Shepard nodded, her eyes briefly flickering to the piano. "I had a minor setback." She waved her free hand. "But I'm… surprised to see you, Tali. Are you… are you well?"

"I'm good," Tali said. She couldn't help but smile when she caught a glimpse of Shepard's skeptical expression. "I promise. I needed time; you gave it to me. I know that you did what you had to because there wasn't any other option." She took a deep breath and moved past the commander into the apartment, taking a seat on the couch. She clasped her hands together in her lap. "The geth are—they are very interesting individuals. I've been trying to get to know them… and they're helping us… it's… Shepard, they're… they're really spectacular."

"They'd better be."

Tali smiled. Typical Shepard, expecting people and things to conform to her version of the way things should be. She had come to realize over the last couple of weeks that in order to love Shepard, one had to accept her for who she was. It had taken Tali a long time to reconcile herself with the notion, but eventually she realized she could be the commander's friend and still maintain her own identity.

"Oh! I forgot! I brought you a present!" She sprang giddily from the couch and raced around it. "Come on, come see!"

When she reached the piano, she grasped the velvet cover she had draped over the box and yanked it off. She glanced at Shepard, thankful that the human couldn't see her shifty grin.

The commander's red eyes widened. "What the fuck is that?"

"This, Shepard, is Boo. He is a hamster."

Shepard didn't bother to hide her confusion. "You… bought me a hamster?" She scrubbed the back of her neck. "Uhm… why? You know that… No, no… I gotta know, seriously, what the fuck?"

The commander didn't sound enthused although she didn't sound angry, either. Tali had expected Shepard to tell her to get the thing away from her. She hadn't done that, which meant that this was going better than she expected already.

Tali shrugged. "I don't know, actually. I bought it before I even realized what I was doing…"

"But why would you to think _I _would want it?"

"Well… I thought… uh… maybe it was something we could do together." Tali picked the little rodent up and held him within the clear glass cage. She rubbed his belly with a thick finger before whispering to him. "If she gives you any trouble, Boo, just go for the eyes!"

"You thought—" Shepard began, but was cut off by the chime of her door. "Apparently I'm fucking popular today. Jesus, I hope it's not someone bringing me a fucking kitten."

Touching a control on her omni, Shepard disengaged the lock on the door, which promptly slid open. Specialist Traynor stood outside the door looking exceptionally pale. The atmosphere immediately changed. Shepard's face reddened. The Alliance tech, who had not even entered the apartment, took a step back into the hallway.

Tali frowned and released Boo back into his cage. "Hello, Samantha," Tali greeted, wondering why the woman's arrival had set Shepard on edge.

Shepard seemed to marginally recover. "Specialist Traynor."

"Commander, I'm here to officially request a transfer off the Normandy." The human remained in the hallway, although she anxiously watched Shepard—behaving like a frightened animal, ready to bolt.

"Request denied, Specialist." The way Shepard growled the sentence startled Tali.

"With all due respect, Commander—" Samantha began, but squeaked and jumped back when Shepard bared her teeth and took a threatening step.

Tali put a gentle hand on the commander's shoulder. She suspected if she had been anyone else, the commander would have killed her in an instant, but Tali had always had a calming effect on Shepard. Her gamble paid off. Shepard clenched her hands, but she remained otherwise motionless.

"You can't handle the consequences, Traynor? That it?"

Traynor's eyes went wide, but narrowed immediately as a sudden flush crept up her neck, visible even against her caramel complexion. "She told—" Eyes blazing Samantha stopped herself and took a calming breath. She looked as though she was gathering courage. "I believe that my skills are no longer needed on the Normandy. I would be of more use to the war effort if I could help organize the refugees on Horizon."

"Oh yeah? Tell you what, then, I'll let you run like the little bitch that you are, Traynor! How's that sound? Pack your shit and get off my goddamn ship!" Shepard spat. "Your fucking paperwork will be ready by the morning."

With that, Samantha relaxed. How anyone could relax with Shepard yelling at them was beyond Tali, but a giant smile of relief spread over the specialist's features as she turned and walked away. Shepard was still tense. Tali didn't want to ask about what had just happened, although she'd be lying if she said she wasn't extremely curious.

"Tali… you should probably go. And… uh, thanks for the… uh, Boo, but I think he should maybe go with you."

"Are you sure? I mean, are you… all right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides, there's only one piano."

· x ·

_Author's Note: _If you enjoyed the chapter, thank Midnight Lion. If you hated it, it's all on me. ;)


	36. Chapter 36

_**Author's Note**_: There is a [sort of] new chapter (35) prior to this one, but for whatever reason fanfiction dot net decided not to send out notifications for it (thanks for pointing that out, cc!). You _might_ want to read it first. *crosses fingers that notices actually go out for this one*

· x ·

Samantha's blood pounded in her ears.

For a vast majority of the day she had been waiting patiently in long lines of refugees. These people looked haggard and distraught, having come from all over the galaxy. Thousands of people shuffled their feet, emotionally and physically spent. Most resembled zombies she'd seen in 21st century classic B-movies, sporting shabby clothing and vacant, open-mouthed stares. It was likely that their home-worlds were in ruins, and that most had narrowly escaped the terror of the reapers.

Samantha could hardly wait to reach the processing station and volunteer. After her shuttle had landed, she had been told that she could reclaim her possessions as soon as she had been processed. She had been given a set of three numbers painted on fabric which she was required to pin somewhere on her person, preferably one on each shoulder and the last on the back of her shirt. This, they explained, would help expedite administration.

Out of boredom, and the fierce need to keep her mind off the real reason she was there, she had played virtual chess on her omni-tool while she waited. She would have linked to the extranet to find a partner, except that Sanctuary was under a temporary communications embargo for security purposes. By mid-afternoon, Sam's eyes had begun to cross from staring at her omni-tool for a good portion of the day and she had just finished shutting it down when someone tapped sharply on her shoulder.

"Are you Samantha Traynor?"

Sam turned around to find herself face to face with a dour looking young man wearing some kind of uniform. She examined the vaguely familiar logo, but when she couldn't quite place it, she shrugged and nodded her head. "Yes."

"Would you come with me, Miss Traynor?"

Sam wrinkled her nose in confusion and glanced around. People immediately surrounding her looked on curiously, as though this interruption might very well be the highlight of their miserable day.

"Uhm. Of course."

Mr. Severe grabbed ahold of her elbow, almost uncomfortably, and escorted her back down the line she had been standing in. He held his free hand out and people parted, scrambling out of their way, instinctively knowing not to trifle with a man who exuded authority. As he hauled her forward Sam became more and more alarmed. Eventually he led the way down a long, deserted hallway and opened the door to a small room, empty except for a rickety metal chair bolted to the floor in the centre of it.

"What the—?" Before Sam could finish her sentence, he had shoved her inside and closed the door behind her. She whirled around, but the door had disappeared seamlessly into the wall. There wasn't a handle in sight.

Now her pulse pounded behind her eyes.

"Okay. It's okay. You're gonna be fine."

"I didn't think you were one to talk to yourself, Sammy."

A familiar voice speared through the panic. Opening her eyes, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Amy! If you wanted to scare me you could have just snuck up behind me while I was in line!"

Samantha's cousin smiled. Amelia Traynor was only a year younger than Sam, but she was taller and her skin was a richer, darker hue. She was dressed in the same uniform as the man but hers had a few extra stripes on the sleeve. Sam wondered if they indicated some kind of advanced rank.

"I'm afraid the situation is a little bit trickier than that, Coz."

"I don't—" Sam frowned, catching a hint of misery in her cousin's voice. "What do you mean? I came to volunteer. I want to help…"

"Sammy… _look_. Tell me what you see. Come on, you always were the smartest of the bunch."

Sam's attention was drawn again to the uniform her cousin wore. She fixated on the logo emblazoning it. Suddenly, she realized what she was looking at. It had been modified, but the underlying pattern and the colours were all the same.

"Amy… _Why?_" Samantha asked before covering her mouth with her hand. She sat down hard in the chair. Now she understood why no one in the family ever wanted to talk about Cousin Amelia. Sam had been meaning to email her. After she joined the Alliance, she just never seemed to find the time.

"Cerberus came to me. They said I was exactly what they'd been looking for…"

"Really, you bought that line?"

"I know," Amy sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Just… their offer was too good to pass up." She grimaced, then reached behind her and drew out a pistol. She held it up for Sam to look at. "Do you know what this is?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm hoping it's a cheeseburger." She patted her stomach, her facetiousness reminding her that she really was hungry.

Her cousin blinked in confusion for a moment and then she began to laugh. "You know, it's so good to see you." But the smile that split Amelia's face looked strained. It was not at all like the easy grin she used to wear when they'd goof around as kids; the one that could get both of them out of trouble with their parents as soon as she flashed it. The smile quickly faded as her cousin approached, holding the pistol by the barrel in offering. "Do you know how to use it?"

Sam gingerly accepted it. "Uhm, I can shoot, if that's what you're asking. Everyone learns that in basic, but… it's, uh, been a while…"

"This is a Cerberus issue Harpy—they're rare, but they pack a punch," Amy paused as Sam looked hopelessly confused. "Listen, I wish I had more time to explain, Sammy, but I only managed to disable the cameras in this room for just a few minutes. You're lucky I spotted your name on the roster… I said it was good to see you—and it is—but I _really_ wish you hadn't come."

"I don't understand…"

"Samantha, listen to me carefully!" As a teen Amelia had never been serious; it was so foreign to hear the sharp bite of command in her voice that Sam instinctively straightened. "This is _not_ a refugee camp… Cerberus is doing some really bad shit here. They are experimenting on the refugees… I-I can't go into details." The disturbed, pale look that ghosted over Amy's face made Sam uncomfortable, signaling that she probably didn't want details anyway.

Despite that, Sam swallowed her fear and asked anyway. "Amelia, what the hell are you talking about? Please, please just explain… maybe I can help!"

"You can. They haven't confiscated your omni yet, have they?" Sam shook her head, eyes growing wider as she struggled for composure. "Good. I'm going to help you get out of here. If I upload schematics for the ductwork and maintenance passageways, do you think you can read them?"

"Y-yes."

Amelia pushed a series of buttons on her omni-tool. Samantha's lit up as it accepted the transfer. When the upload was complete, Amy crouched down next to the chair. "Call them up. I want to make sure you know where you're going." After swiping through a couple of pages of schematics, Amelia had found the one she'd been looking for. "All right. I am going to climb onto the chair and boost you up to that vent." She pointed up. "If you follow the route through the ductwork that I've highlighted," she trailed a finger over the glowing orange image, tracing the path, "you'll come into an extranet server room. I think I can bypass the firewall for a few seconds so you can get a message out." Amelia paused to make sure what she was saying would sink in through her cousin's fright. "Is there someone, anyone at all, you trust to send a message to? Someone who will understand and send help?"

She sagged forward. There was only one person; the person she had come to Horizon to escape from. Sam recalled Liara's somber expression as the asari watched her board the Citadel's rapid transit, destined for the docking bay where her transport waited. She had spotted Liara, hiding unsuccessfully in a queue, through the cab's window just before her departure.

Rubbing her temples, Sam let out a shaky breath. "_If_ I get the message out, what happens then?"

Amy pulled some extra clips out of her pockets, offering them to her cousin. "I don't know… The only thing I _do_ know is that the shit is about to hit the fan. The reapers are on their way here."

· x ·

_Endnote_: Thanks once more to ML. I was sleep deprived when I edited this, though.


	37. Chapter 37

Every step Lola took as she paced was stiff with tension. "Anyone know where they are hiding?"

Silence reigned. James had already made the mistake of saying they should kick Cerberus in their balls first for a change, earning himself a scorching glare from Shepard. No one else was stupid enough to repeat his mistake.

"_Anyone?_" Shepard growled.

Glancing at his companions, James saw that no one was moving. Not one of them seemed motivated to speak. Shepard's frustration was tangible, the sort of thing that would snarl and bite you if you so much as breathed.

Rowan seemed unfazed. Maybe she was just a better actress. The other Spectre leaned a hip against one of the consoles, absorbing Shepard's rage like a capacitor, storing it for her own use later. He supposed coming from a large family would equip Ashley with the means to redirect negative energy in a spectacular fashion.

Tinker stood closest to Shepard; the quarian's helmet periodically reflecting images of the commander, arms crossed angrily over her chest, as she marched back and forth. The little alien clasped her hands together, which were twitching as though she wanted to wring them, but she valiantly fought off the urge.

Some of the team members could shrug off the unpredictable atmosphere that surrounded Shepard, and they waited in various states of composure, except Dr. T'Soni. She was furthest away, choosing to stand in a spot partially obscured by shadows; her head bowed and arms hanging idly to her sides as she listened to the commander. She had been disconnected ever since Thessia. He wondered if he was being too harsh, holding on to the grudge against her for her part in chasing Rook away.

As he watched, Liara's eyes darkened even as the light caught them. She stepped out of the shadows and Shepard's attention riveted to her.

"Something to add, T'Soni?" the commander barked.

"Before disembarking, Specialist Traynor programmed a tracer keyed to Kai Lang's shuttle. About an hour ago it returned a hit. I checked the results, but the data is incomplete. The signal vanished."

"Vanished where?"

"The Iera System."

Lola stopped moving. She glared at Liara for a long moment. "Are you kidding me with this shit?"

Liara's jaw twitched and her eyes narrowed, appearing affronted. "I would not jest about something of this nature, Commander. I asked EDI to check into it. The signal is not just gone, it is being actively blocked."

Rowan's face twisted sourly for a moment before she managed to school it. "I was stationed on Horizon, Shepard. Yours was the only Cerberus presence in that system."

The commander nodded. "You realize this is a slim lead, T'Soni?" Her tone was acerbic.

Liara kept her gaze locked on Shepard. "You have come too far to let Cerberus stop you now."

Shepard looked away first, stabbing a finger at the asari. "Better be worth it!" she barked, and then she stomped out the door.

Everyone but Liara followed, thankful they had all escaped relatively unscathed. The asari gripped the railing encircling the war room. As he neared, James could see that she was trembling, her chin dropping nearly to her chest, her knuckles turning white.

"Doc?"

"Lieutenant Vega," she said, immediately stowing all traces of any vulnerability, "is there something I can do for you?"

He took a breath. "You're upset."

"I do not imagine you care much."

James supposed he deserved that. He understood why she would be less inclined to trust him, his guilty feelings regarding his handling of their last encounter aside. He shrugged, not wanting to press the issue, and made for the exit.

"James."

He turned.

"The intelligence came from Specialist Traynor." Her voice was a hollow whisper. "She is in danger."

"Mierda! Why didn't you just tell Shepard that?"

She shook her head as she whispered, "I could not." When she looked up at him, her large blue eyes were round with fear. In all the times he'd been dirt-side with her, he'd only seen anguish smeared so distinctively over her features once, right before Shepard jumped off the cliff. "If Shepard knew—I was afraid she..." She trailed off, covering her face with a hand and bowing her head again. Her shoulders rounded in. "James, I cannot separate myself from this."

In that moment, hearing Liara speak so softly, so brokenly, James realized just how much Samantha's absence had affected the asari. She had to be suffering a great deal to be this open with him, especially given how nasty they'd been to each other lately. He could see she'd been trying to keep herself together and was ultimately failing.

He put a hand between her shoulder blades, feeling the physical manifestation of her distress in the form of an intense shiver. "The worst thing you can do is hold it in, Blue. You're allowed to feel things."

She took a shaky breath. "I do not know how I should feel."

"I don't envy you that," he admitted. "But I hope you have a chance to figure it out."

· x ·

Samantha jolted awake with tears staining her cheeks. Cramps had locked the muscles in her arms and legs, which were screaming to be stretched. Over the past couple of days, Samantha had been training herself to ignore the discomfort. After eighteen hours of wakefulness, she allowed herself to find the darkest most obscure junction of ductwork to hide in. She would curl up as much as possible, given the limited space, and try to sleep.

Days and nights had begun to blend together since she'd figured out that Cerberus could track her by her omni-tool; she'd been forced to disable it completely. Although she had been lucky enough to escape the troops twice, she refused to chance a third encounter. But eventually it wasn't Cerberus she had to contend with. Most of the troops had bugged out. Those that had been brave enough to stay had been eliminated. By the reapers.

Samantha shivered at the memory of the first reaper she saw up close. It had been a morning not unlike this one, where she had awoken with cramped legs and saline cooling on her face, but with hunger and thirst gnawing incessantly at her belly. She'd have given anything for a raindrop's worth of water and she knew that she was going to have to venture out of hiding.

After crawling through the ductwork for almost an hour, she had pried open the first vent she saw in order to survey the room below, hoping she could sneak safely out. Directly below her stood a single human husk, glowing blue with its garish reaper tech. She couldn't hold in a gasp of terror and the thing's head swung around, its creepy, soulless eyes locking on her. In the time it took her to scoot back, it had scaled the wall and was forcing its head and shoulders through the opening, an arm outstretched.

She had screamed, feeling a pool of warmth spreading over her legs. Her fingers were numb with fright as she fumbled for her gun. It wasn't the first time she'd cried in fear, but as the thing made unnatural noises and tried to swipe at her, the tears had flowed. She continued to shove herself backwards through the ducting. In its haste, the thing had gotten stuck, although she had no doubt it would soon be free. Finally liberating her pistol, Sam aimed through blurry vision and pulled the trigger. Its head exploded in a spray of putrid meat and electronics, covering her in gore.

The specialist had lain in a puddle of her own piss and reaper viscera for an immeasurable amount of time, trying to get the shaking to subside, trying to gather the courage to move forward again, hoping there weren't more husks below. Her fear and disgust were eventually overrun by her need to survive and the relative silence was broken by a violent rumble in her belly. She'd had to crawl through the mess in order to reach the opening again. Thankfully the room had been clear and she'd been able to ease down.

Slumped against the door had been the only other occupant, a dead Cerberus operative. Samantha immediately realized that the female agent had something she could use: her light armour. The woman looked bigger than Sam, but the specialist thought she could make do. Steeling herself, she had approached the body. She started with the operative's boots, but the stench had been unbearable and she had stumbled away, bending at the waist and giving herself over to dry heaves. After her nausea subsided, Samantha had removed her own shirt, tying it snugly over her face to staunch most of the smell. She had worked as quickly as possible, at one point screwing her eyes shut as she jostled the body and its head lolled, opening a crude rent in its throat...

Forcing the memory out of her head, Samantha shivered, swiping away the tears of nightmares that paled in comparison to her reality. Although she had been thankful for the over-sized armour on several occasions, she felt like a traitor wearing anything emblazoned with the Cerberus logo.

· x ·

_Author's Note_: I want to thank WordKrush for a wonderful brainstorming session. It's always helpful to have an outside perspective. I have much food for thought now. :D My gratitude also goes to Sirrocco and Midnight Lion for their help with this chapter. And to the readers who have stuck with this train wreck, I thank you, too.


	38. Chapter 38

I love finally seeing fear in his eyes.

His eyes get larger, rounder—they begin to gloss over as his nostrils flare—and it sends a jolt of excitement through me. I've never savored the sight of terror. Oh, its creation has a place in my repertoire, but it has only ever been an instrument of manipulation, to be used when absolutely necessary. A distant part of me wonders if this is how he felt every time he came close to taking Oriana away from me. As repulsed as I am by that idea, I don't belay the notion. I want to feel control; I want him to know I am what _he_ made me.

The man calling himself Henry Lawson is backed against a large, partially destroyed plate glass observation window. My sister looks serious as she points a pistol at him. She has already fired once and missed. She won't miss again.

He has no escape except to go through me. I will press the advantage.

I just… I need to catch my breath first.

For the time being, he doesn't know that I've been injured. He'll figure it out quickly though. I have to be able to move before that happens.

I can't get my bloody legs to work.

One step sends blinding pain up my side. I slam a palm down on a nearby workstation, determined to stay upright. The pain is so staggeringly brilliant that I briefly close my eyes.

This can't be happening now!

"Miranda!"

Shepard's voice booms out from somewhere behind me and just like that, the advantage slips from my grasp. In my distraction, Henry strikes like a snake; slapping Oriana's hand to redirect the gun before viciously twisting her arm and taking the weapon. He spins her around, strong-arming her against his chest, a thick forearm braced across her throat, and pushes the barrel against her temple. Oriana remains perfectly calm. She's so strong; I can't help but feel pride swelling in my chest.

Shepard trains her gun on him and my legs finally give way. My eyes shut again as I slide to the floor, sweat leaping to my forehead. What breath I can catch comes in ragged bursts. Adrenaline floods my stomach, making it sour. It's all astonishingly debilitating.

"Miranda?"

A soft touch lights on my shoulder. I open my eyes to find Doctor T'Soni kneeling beside me. Asari rarely look aged—even in their matriarchal stages, rapid cellular regeneration ensures that they maintain a comparatively youthful appearance—but Liara looks _old_. No, that's inaccurate. She's haggard, spent. I had thought she seemed haunted when we met after Shepard's death, but that was nothing compared to how she appears now.

Somehow, she produces a hopeful smile for me. "Come on," she whispers, sliding a hand up my forearm to brace beneath my elbow. She helps me regain my feet, but it takes all my remaining strength to keep from shrieking in anguish. I clench my teeth, feeling bile rise in my throat.

Liara presses her free hand low on my abdomen. I feel a cool sensation spreading from her touch and realize she has applied medigel. None of my pain eases. Nonetheless, I catch her eye with the intention of thanking her, but her expression makes the words die in my throat. She doesn't speak, although the dire concern painted over her features screams what she is too decent to say.

Blood is roaring in my ears. I can barely hear Shepard as she speaks.

I have to figure out what the commander is planning. I trust Shepard to do what is right for the galaxy. I don't know if I can trust Shepard to do what is right for Oriana. The two are likely not synonymous to the Alliance soldier. If she believes the information Henry is withholding to be worth the trade, Shepard might give him my sister.

"Put the gun down!" Shepard barks.

"Oriana tried to shoot me. Miranda's poisonous influence, no doubt." Henry sounds like a petulant child. This will incite Shepard's ire more than anything. She does not tolerate weakness.

"I'm sorry she missed," Shepard says. "Where is Kai Leng?"

"I don't know. He took my research and left us here to die."

Oriana squints, but she remains still. She might be considered the eye of this shit storm. She's clearly weighing her options. I know what I'd be thinking, if I were her, but suddenly I need to know _exactly_ what _she _is thinking.

I take a tentative step with Liara's support. I need to put a stop to this. I don't want Oriana feeling that she has to do something heroic. Or rash. "Shepard, don't let him take her!"

"Just shoot him," Oriana drawls.

Henry's eyes narrow and he tightens his grip. "Few people have the stomach to do what it takes to survive."

"If you try to leave with her, you die. Does that sound like fucking survival to you?" Shepard's tone is acute. It's times like these that I'm thankful she's such a rigid goddamn bitch.

Come on, Shep, keep him distracted.

"I've done nothing to you."

"This isn't about you and me. Let her go and walk the fuck away. I _won't_ repeat myself."

I watch Henry's gaze shift. I see the corner of his mouth quirk up in that smug bastardization of a smile he wears when he thinks he's somehow gained the upper hand. Liara notices it, too, because she leaves me to stand on my own, transferring both hands to the pistol she's holding as she relocates to a better position.

I catch a movement in my periphery. It's not the goliath, mohawked lughead of a marine Shepard and Liara have brought with them. A flash of white and yellow ducks behind a workstation.

Time is running out.

"What I have learned here will save countless lives," Henry says. "I will be seen as the savior of the human race."

Shepard scoffs. "Listen, asshole, I have no problem with your almighty self. I just want Oriana and the research data."

"You ask for a lot." Henry's grin transforms his face. I can feel my biotics tingle over my entire body as they ignite. He is too focused on Shepard to pay me any attention. Typical. "But all right," he says as he shoves Oriana away from him. He's clearly expecting the unknown Cerberus operative to come to cover him. "I want out with my life. Deal?"

My head snaps up and my spine jerks straight as I extend my right hand to unleash a forceful biotic slam at my father. "No deal!" I yell, and he grunts as he flies into the cracked window, shattering it completely before falling through, down several stories to the floor below. Simultaneously, I use my left hand to lash at the Cerberus agent.

I don't register the operative's timid squeak of surprise in time to stop from releasing another biotic slam into her. I try to at least pull my punch at the last moment, but I don't know if I'm successful because agony and blindingly bright light steal my vision and the floor rushes up to greet me.

I hear Liara's shout from somewhere in the distance, "Oh, Goddess, no! Sam!"

Someone is grasping my hand. The pain begins to wane. Oriana's voice is close. "Miranda? Miri! I'm so sorry!"

I turn my head to the sound of her voice. She's there. She's alive. I try to squeeze her hand. "Shh! Shh! Listen… listen to me. I wanted you to have a… a normal life: marriage, children… things… things I could never have."

Oriana sniffles. "I know, but I just wanted my sister."

"I love you, Ori." I have never said those three words to anyone.

"I love you, too."

I wish I had more time, but I feel numb. It's as though ice is spreading over me at a wildfire pace. I begin to shiver. "Shepard."

I shiver more violently.

Shepard.

There is something…

Shepard.

Something… Shepard needs to know.

"I'm here." A warm hand gently grips the back of my neck. Another cups my cheek. I press into it, I'm so cold.

"Before… Kai Leng… left… I planted… planted…" More shivers. My teeth are chattering together. I force my lips to form the word.

"A tracer? Miranda, you thought of everything."

"Not everything… nobody's…" _I'm_ not perfect. "At… least Ori's sa—"

· x ·

_Author's Note_: ML rocks! Just sayin'.


	39. Chapter 39

Henry Lawson plummeted to his death, the first in a domino effect causing almost everyone else to fall.

Miranda diminished with an impressive flourish, arms thrown out in different directions, her biotic powers rippling unevenly. Even when the ground reached up to capture her as she subsided, the human still had the bearing of a beautiful force to be reckoned with.

Oriana slumped next to her sister, speaking in hushed, worried tones that increasingly unraveled in despair.

Shepard knelt beside the ex-Cerberus operative, too. She was disturbingly gentle as she lifted Miranda's head and touched her cheek. Oriana quietly sobbed, trembling fingers pressed over her mouth.

Shepard's strength dignified Miranda's passing.

The only one to maintain his footing, James stood— in a breathless, fatigued stupor—as a sentinel, watching events unfold.

Liara failed to register anything that was happening around her at first. She concentrated on making sure that the secondary threat Miranda had exposed was well and truly incapacitated.

Initially, all that had been visible behind the workstation had been a Cerberus issue boot, laced haphazardly to accommodate for a sloppy fit. Liara had been puzzled until she rounded the desk, finger twitching against the trigger of her Predator.

She couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing: slovenly white and yellow armour that flew in the face of the precision she had come to expect of Cerberus. But as she crept closer, realization dawned. Matted brown hair obscured the figure's face, but the caramel complexion was distinctive.

Liara's heart threatened to beat its way clear of her ribcage shortly before leaping into her throat.

"Oh, Goddess, no! Sam!"

Liara couldn't contain the shout as her knees buckled, dropping her down beside the specialist. She abandoned her gun, stripped her gloves and reached out to gently brush Sam's hair away from her face. It was caked with dirt, although Liara could make out old tear-tracks leading from below her delicate lashes.

Her fingers shook as she cautiously turned the specialist's head to the side, wary of causing further injury. She found Sam's pulse point and hesitated a moment before pushing two fingers against it. Closing her eyes, Liara took a big breath, tilting her head back in relief. She caught herself thanking the goddess and felt a sharp pang of guilt.

The goddess had never been real.

Samantha most certainly was.

Liara stared at the specialist's slack face, unable to keep herself from comparing the two humans that figured most prominently in her life: Muireall, with her razor sharp passion that wounded so deeply; and Samantha, with her sweet, steady affection.

Deserving of neither, through her actions Liara had likely lost both.

"This is my fault," Liara whispered, tenderly stroking Sam's cheek with her knuckles, "I need you to wake up now. I promise _if _there is anywhere in the galaxy that is safe, far away from the Normandy—from… from _me_—I _will_ find it and help you get there… just… just stay with me a little longer. Please…" She bowed her head, her voice cracking with emotion. "Please."

"T'Soni."

Jerking her hand away from the specialist's face, she turned to find Shepard staring down impassively. It unsettled Liara that she couldn't read the commander's expression.

The asari watched in apprehension as Shepard shifted until her feet were shoulder width apart before smoothly crouching next to Traynor. With an inexplicable rush of panic, she flung a hand out, desperately clamping down on the human's hard-suited upper arm.

"I won't hurt her," Shepard said. "You're exhausted and… I'm not. Look, I can easily carry her."

Liara knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. Shepard returned her attention to her task, reaching forward. Liara narrowed her eyes as she pulled on human's arm. The commander leveled her with a serious, red stare. "What game are you playing?" Liara hissed.

"No game—"

"Lola, we gotta blow this joint, like _derecho ahora_!"

"Why don't you go help Vega with Oriana? She's not… doing so well."

Liara winced. She should be accustomed to feelings of intense guilt by now, but it was still like a sour kick in the gut to realize that she hadn't thought once about how anyone else had faired since finding Samantha. "Miranda's—"

"Dead," Shepard replied flatly.

"Goddess be damned!" Liara snarled. Shepard arched an eyebrow. Liara closed her eyes, letting feelings of regret and sorrow briefly wash over her. Miranda had always been so composed, so sure of herself, so… so perfect! After the destruction of the original Normandy, the Cerberus operative had been the paradigm to which Liara modeled herself. The asari had been fragmented, barely able to pull herself together. Miranda had given her a purpose. She had inspired her to succeed.

"Commander?" Vega hollered, sounding ill-at-ease to be cradling a dead woman while her sister openly wept next to him. "For the love of Christ, can we go now?!"

"Keep your goddamned panties on, Vega. We're coming! Shit."

Shepard slipped one arm beneath Traynor's knees and the other under her shoulders. The commander grunted as she used her legs to lift the specialist. Liara knew that Sam wasn't heavy, but the bulky armour had to make Shepard's lift exceptionally awkward.

After she managed to stand, Shepard shifted the small human. The specialist's head lolled back and one of her hands dropped down. Liara grabbed Sam's dangling hand and squeezed it gently before laying it securely across the specialist's stomach. She looked up to see Shepard watching her, the unreadable expression once again firmly in place. She felt disquieted by the commander's emotionless gaze. Liara didn't like that she didn't know what to expect when Shepard remained closed.

It was infinitely easier to deal with her rage.

· x ·

_Author's Note_: I know, I know, it's short. But I managed to achieve what I wanted to more expeditiously than I expected. Thanks to WordKrush and Midnight Lion for their valuable input. If you are not reading WordKrush's newest, "Leviathan: Oracle", you really should be. It's one of the best things I've read in ages! Also, Midnight Lion continues to stun me with "Pressure". Go. Read. I promise, you'll love them!


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